


in it for the crown

by Kendarrr



Category: Glee
Genre: Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Prom, Prom Queen, pr relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 12:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22136335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendarrr/pseuds/Kendarrr
Summary: It was a widely-known fact that Quinn Fabray's goal in high school was to win prom queen.What Rachel did not expect was that she was going to be roped into campaigning and running for prom queen herself. As Quinn Fabray's date.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Comments: 60
Kudos: 579





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An exercise in multi-chapters. I have never been good with them (because I believe myself to be a poor pacer — too impatient for words), so here I am taking a stab at it. 
> 
> Thanks to Jay for giving it a look before I posted! Your comments are hilarious.

The moment the theme for junior prom was announced that Monday morning, a change came over the former head cheerleader Quinn Fabray. She smiled at everyone, was nice to those who accidentally bumped into her in the hallway when her regular demeanour would be to send them the iciest glare she could muster. The entire school somehow figured it out simultaneously — this was Quinn’s start to campaign for prom queen, albeit unofficially. After all, where were the posters?

Rachel, for one, was ambivalent about the whole ordeal surrounding prom. Since it was only recently that she had friends to call her own, she did not have the schoolgirl fantasy of attending prom with a date, nor did she expect to run for prom queen, like Quinn aspired. It must be nice, Rachel thought, to have this quintessential high school milestone to look forward to, like Quinn did.

During a study period that Rachel shared with Quinn, Kurt, Santana, and Mercedes, they gathered around the same table with their books laid out in front of them. Well, all except Quinn. She sat separate from them, citing that she needed to do extra research for their history paper. Rachel glanced at her sometimes, her long blonde hair draped over her shoulders, a look of concentration on her face.

“We _are_ going to prom, right?” Kurt asked the table. “I refuse to miss out on high school experiences because I just so happen to go to a bigoted school.”

“Hell yeah we are,” Mercedes replied. “The admission price is steep, but I think it’ll be fun. Should we rent a limo and everything?”

Kurt and Mercedes chatted amongst themselves and with Santana about specifics and group photo opportunities, while Rachel wrote up a draft outline for her history paper — probably the same paper Quinn was working on, seeing as they were in the same class. She glanced at the blonde’s direction again and inhaled sharply.

Quinn was looking at her.

Rachel immediately ducked her head once more and buried it between the pages of _Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_.

Why was she looking at Rachel, and with such soft eyes, at that? Rachel shook her head to rid herself of thoughts before she could even make them. She reached for a pencil to make a note on her drafts when the familiar aroma of Quinn’s perfume – something like peach blossoms, sweet and floral — assailed her senses, further eradicating critical thought on Rachel’s part.

“Hi, Rachel. Can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course, Quinn. What seems to be the problem?”

“There’s no problem,” she said lightly. “I just want to discuss something. In private.”

At the mention of privacy, everyone at the table paused whatever it was they were doing and turned to look at Quinn. Santana raised a brow. “What’s something you can’t discuss with us, your glee family?”

“Shut up, Santana,” Quinn said, with no bitterness in her tone. It was playful, even joking. “So?” She looked at Rachel, who was speechless and so she just nodded, rose off her seat and followed Quinn outside the library and into the bathroom. Quinn waited until the freshman left before she locked the door behind the girl. “Why do you look nervous?”

“You just locked the door and we’re alone together and — "

“Do I still terrify you?” Quinn asked softly.

“Well, no,” Rachel admitted. “I suppose a part of me felt that I _should_ feel that way. But no, I’m not afraid of you, Quinn.”

“Good,” the blonde smiled and took a furtive step towards Rachel. “So, are you thinking about attending prom?”

Rachel blinked. Was this what Quinn wanted to discuss with her? Why did it have to be in private? “Yes, we — Kurt, Mercedes, and Santana — were just planning and talking about it before you approached. I assume you’re going as well — you know, the entire glee club can probably share a table amongst ourselves — "

“No, it’s not about that. Well, it’s a little bit about that,” Quinn smiled and Rachel couldn’t help but smile too. Quinn had that effect on Rachel — or perhaps on other people as well. One where she had such a vivid capacity to make others feel what she felt. It was, Rachel recognized, potentially dangerous.

“What is it?”

“Do you want to go to prom with me?”

Quinn blurted out those words, in that order — to _her_ — and Rachel struggled to comprehend.

“You… Me… Prom?”

Quinn giggled, and it was the most pleasant sound. “Yes. Do you want to go with me?”

“As friends?” Rachel’s voice sounded so strange in her ears. Was it the acoustics of the bathroom?

“No,” Quinn took another step closer to Rachel and it was probably Quinn’s proximity that made Rachel’s head spin. “I want you to be my date, and I’ll be yours.”

Rachel had the inclination to believe that she entered some kind of weird, alternate universe where Quinn was asking her to be her prom date, and not Finn, the golden boy, the leading man, the star quarterback, like everybody expected her to do. Still, the sound of Quinn’s smoky voice uttering those words, asking Rachel to be _her date_ , was bizarre. But not unwanted.

“But I thought you’re campaigning to be prom queen?” Rachel asked.

“I am,” Quinn’s smile was back, and brighter than ever. Rachel couldn’t help but notice that Quinn seemed… excited? “And I was hoping you could help me with it. We could campaign to be prom queens — together.” She took another step closer to Rachel and held the smaller girl by her shoulders. “Think about it, Rachel. We would be a symbol of hope for any closeted lesbians and gay people in this school! If they see us, they’ll vote for us. One in three people identify as gay now.”

Rachel bit her lip. Quinn’s eyes looked intense, and she assumed it was because of the notion that they — or she, really — can win prom queen. With Rachel’s help. “That, and I’m sure sleazy straight boys would jump at the chance to ogle two girls for their consumption.” She muttered.

“Exactly! Everyone likes lesbians!”

“Quinn,” Rachel started. She squirmed out of the blonde’s grasp. “While it makes me uncomfortable, this notion that you want to pose as a lesbian to win prom queen, I agree with your former point. Young people do need queer representation in their daily life, not just through celebrities or public figures.”

“I’m not gay,” Quinn was quick to retort. “Just so we’re clear on that.”

Rachel sighed. “Of course not,” she mumbled. “That would seem too good to be true now, wouldn’t it? I’m just saying — as the daughter of two gay dads and with Kurt as one of my friends, I think that this would be a little problematic, wouldn’t you say?”

Quinn crossed her arms over her chest. Raised her brow. _There_ was the head bitch in charge everyone knew and feared. “And why is that?”

She may be a little bit afraid of the blonde before her, but Rachel refused to be glared at and bullied into silence. _Especially_ about this kind of thing. “You are taking a narrative that is not yours and using it for your own means — to win prom queen! That’s just like when Ariana Grande’s song was nominated as an LGBTQ anthem, when the song itself is not even _remotely_ queer — really, it’s about loving yourself, which…” Rachel huffed. “All I’m saying is — it is cruel to fool people into thinking you’re one of them when you’re not.”

Quinn softened and she sighed. “Look. No one has to know I’m not gay. People can think whatever they want.”

“Yeah, right,” Rachel scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Judging from the way you were so quick to deny it, I find it hard to believe that you’d be okay with people assuming or even just _thinking_ that you’re gay.”

The blonde huffed and looked away, her jaw working as she, Rachel assumed, thought. “I’ll have to work on the denial thing,” she said eventually.

“Not to mention,” Rachel began again, and Quinn rolled her eyes and sighed. It was clear that she was close to running out of patience for the smaller girl. “Do you even believe for one second that the school would accept that you suddenly like me enough to campaign for prom queen together, after you made your disdain for me _so_ apparent for most of last year?”

Quinn huffed again, and Rachel had to admit — it was funny to see someone other than herself be the huffy one. “You make a fair point.”

“Of course I do,” Rachel nodded sagely.

“So does that mean you’re not going to help me?”

“Not necessarily,” the diva said, brow scrunched. “I would love to help you, Quinn. But in order for us to have a chance of winning, for people to _believe_ us, you’re going to have to make amends with me — and to some extent, romance me — publicly.”

At this, Quinn raised her brow. “You want me to… _woo_ you?”

“More or less. I already like you as a friend, Quinn, so it’s not about having to change my feelings for you necessarily,” Quinn’s high cheekbones twitched, and Rachel felt her heart pick up in its pace at the hint of the shy smile on Quinn’s lips. “It’s more to _sell_ the idea of us being together, seeing as the culture of prom presupposes that the prom couple is precisely that — a couple.”

Quinn tugged at her chin and Rachel pictured her smart, honour roll brain and how it churned in thought. “Okay,” she finally conceded. “But I have your word that you’ll eventually go to prom with me, right?”

“That part, you have on lock,” Rachel replied with a bright grin. “But be warned — Just because you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met, I won’t be easy, Fabray.”

The blonde smirked and raised a refined brow. “I like a challenge, Berry.”

+

Rachel returned to the library and to her seat, where her friends were sitting in silence. Three pairs of eyes watched Rachel lower herself onto her chair, and she sighed. “What is it? Something on my face?”

“What could Quinn Fabray possibly want to speak to you about?” Kurt asked in a hushed whisper. “And why did she look like she’s happy about something when she returned?”

The diva glanced where Quinn had been sitting, and sure enough, she smiled as she read. She seemed to have noticed Rachel staring, and she smiled even wider, enough for Rachel to expel a dreamy sigh, and did a little finger wave at Rachel. The brown-haired girl swallowed hard and smiled back.

“She just asked me for a favour, that’s all. It’s nothing for you three to worry about.”

“We’ll see about that, Berry,” Santana retorted, eyes narrowed. “We’ll find out, one way or another.”

Rachel palmed her forehead and reopened her history book. “Can we just go back to studying? Please?”

Her three table mates looked at each other before they returned their attentions to their schoolwork. Santana’s veiled threat hardly scared her — Rachel knew she was only curious, and that her curiosity wasn’t some kind of ploy to be the top bitch in school once more — she seemed to have stopped caring about her reputation altogether. As for Kurt and Mercedes, their motives seemed to have stayed the same. Which was, they wanted to know anything and everything about what was happening in school — for no reason other than to be in the know.

The study period ended and Rachel excused herself to her locker and retrieve her books for the next class, which was Calculus. Why she had to take a math class to get into NYADA baffled her — wasn’t it enough that Rachel maintained an A average for all her other courses? She scowled at the textbook and tucked it under her arm.

She took a seat in front of the classroom in hopes that she would be able to absorb information via proximity alone. Rachel looked up at the same moment Quinn walked into the room, carrying her textbook in one arm. Their eyes met, and Quinn smiled again and, smoothing the fabric of her skirt, took the seat beside Rachel.

“You look like someone just told you _Funny Girl_ sucks,” Quinn teased.

“I’m not doing too well in this class,” Rachel grumbled. “I have half the mind to complain to the admissions board in NYADA about requiring a math credit for a _dramatic arts_ school.”

“Maybe it’ll come in handy for acting someday.”

“If I have to play a character who knows how to tackle and solve differential equations?” Rachel asked with a small smile.

“Exactly,” Quinn giggled. “I can tutor you, if you want.”

Her hazel eyes sparkled and Rachel distantly wondered if this was Quinn getting a headstart in “wooing” her. She swallowed, glanced around the room and saw a few curious eyes watching them. Rachel returned her eyes on Quinn and saw that the blonde never looked away from her for one second. And Rachel realized that she was still waiting for a response.

“I — err — that is to say — ”

“Relax, Rachel,” Quinn’s tinkling laughter was reminiscent of springtime, like brightness, like light. Rachel shook her head — Quinn barely flirted with her and she was already _like this_. What happened to not being easy? “I just want to help. You need to make it to New York, after all.”

“In that case,” Rachel’s cheeks felt warm and her cheekbones ached from smiling too much. “I appreciate the help, Quinn. Are you available on Friday? Probably not — it _is_ a Friday and you are a popular girl, after all — ”

Quinn smiled. “I’m free on Friday, Berry. We can work in the library — or… I can swing by your place after school?”

Somehow, those words were _loaded_ with a meaning Rachel could not figure out. If this was how Quinn Fabray flirted with anyone on the regular, no wonder the school was half in love with her. How the things she said carried a double entendre that was not necessarily sexual — but held a promise — that Rachel couldn’t help but ponder at. 

“My place would be b-better, I think,” Rachel said after she cleared her throat.

“Agreed. It’ll be more comfortable.”

Rachel’s jaw dropped at the undeniable innuendo of Quinn’s words and her tone that bordered on seductive, but not quite. She looked around, saw that Mike who often sat beside her until Quinn annexed his seat watched them with wide eyes. He and Rachel locked eyes and he gave her a thumbs up, which she laughed at, despite her blush.

Class begun when the teacher walked in, and she spared no time starting another lecture on calculus concepts that Rachel struggled to concentrate on. Numbers didn’t scare her, unlike the stereotype of the artist and liberal arts-focused people — but when letters were added into the mix, Rachel had a tough time about it. Thankfully, Quinn seemed to have a strong grasp of the mathematical concepts that she taught Rachel what she needed to get through the period — even better than the teacher herself.

When class ended and while Rachel and Quinn packed up their things, Rachel’s old seatmate came up to them with a wave.

“I was about to get fake-mad at you when I saw that you didn’t save me a seat,” Mike told Rachel with a grin. “But then I saw it was Quinn so…” He let his words trail off.

“I just felt like sitting with Rachel today. You can have the seat back tomorrow if you want.” Quinn said with a remarkably off-hand and casual tone that Rachel almost believed her and almost got sad about it. They rose together and Mike followed them out of the classroom.

“Hey, no, it’s cool,” he said. “You can have my seat anytime. I was getting sick of Rachel asking me for help for every question.”

“Hey!” Rachel raised her fist and Mike danced out of her reach with a laugh.

“I’m teasing. But wouldn’t you rather have a pretty girl tutor you in calculus than boring old me?”

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you.”

Mike snickered and patted the top of Rachel’s head. “There, there. I’ll see you two later.” He waved and ran down the hallway for his next class. Rachel watched Quinn who watched Mike in amusement.

“I didn’t realize you and Mike were close,” Quinn commented as she followed Rachel to her locker to put her textbooks away.

“We have a few classes together, and we go to the same dance studio. I also give him vocal training from time to time. And we sort of hang out every weekend.” Rachel retrieved her biology textbook and closed her locker door, then proceeded to follow Quinn to her locker. It was easy talking to Quinn for some reason, and Rachel guessed it was because of how the blonde had her guard down — with her, at least. Quinn looked at ease walking down the hallway with Rachel, despite the looks and the whispers. Then again, Rachel surmised, Quinn probably prepared for this eventuality, and so steeled herself for the consequence of appearing beside Rachel.

Since they had separate classes, Quinn walked Rachel to the biology lab before heading to her chemistry class. Rachel stood by the doorway and watched Quinn, her perfect poise and her long blonde hair trailing behind her. Santana appeared behind Rachel and cleared her throat. Rachel nearly leapt out of her skin and they walked into the classroom and sat on the same lab bench together.

“So you’re walking to classes with Quinn now, huh?” Santana donned her lab coat and retrieved the safety goggles from the rack. “Since when? What the hell is happening between you two?”

“Nothing,” Rachel insisted as she escaped Santana’s interrogation for a brief moment to retrieve the lab kit at the front of the room. She returned just as the rest of their biology lab group gathered on the bench, which allowed her reprieve from Santana’s questions. They focused on the task at hand, with Rachel and their other lab mate writing down notes and working on the lab report while Santana and the other classmate told them of their findings.

It was such a busy class for which Rachel was grateful. It meant that she avoided talking to Santana about topics that had nothing to do with biology and the lab experiment. 

When she thought she was safe, washing her hands by the sink, Santana came up behind her and startled her. “Don’t think you’re safe from me, Berry.”

“Why do you want to know about me and Quinn so badly?” Rachel asked, irritated now. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“No,” Santana smirked. “And I like pissing you off — I like pissing Quinn off, too. And I like killing two birds with one stone, if you will.”

“Great,” Rachel rolled her eyes and removed her lab coat. “Just know that you won’t be getting any answers from me.”

She spun around and gathered her things, promised her other lab group members that she would have the report typed and printed out by the next time they met. She escaped Santana though she knew it wouldn’t be for long, seeing as it was lunch break and the glee club shared a lunch table together. Rachel faintly thought about eating lunch at the auditorium to spare her any need to evade Santana.

Might as well get some practice done before tonight, she thought. 

+

The auditorium was dark, with only a few of the spotlights illuminating the floor of the stage. Rachel ate her sandwich. Her legs hung off the edge of the platform while she looked out towards the rows upon rows of empty seats. 

Once she finished eating, she sat by the piano to play her scales and do her vocal warmups. She then sang a random song that popped into her head as she warmed up, and so lost in the song was she that she did not hear the footsteps upon the stage until she finished the last note of the song, and she heard faint applause behind her.

“There you are,” Quinn approached and nudged Rachel by the shoulder to have her scoot aside so she could sit on the piano bench with her. “I was looking for you at the lunch room but you weren’t at the glee table.”

“I was avoiding Santana,” Rachel said. “She’s prying.”

“I know, she tried interrogating me during lunch, too.” Quinn tinkered with a few notes and Rachel watched her long, delicate fingers, her pale knuckles and tapered nails dance along the keys. “Would it be so bad if we told her? Not the truth, but the public version of it. That we’re a couple and we’re going to run for prom queen together?”

Rachel fidgeted in her seat. Quinn played the right hand parts of Fur Elise, so Rachel accompanied her with the left hand arpeggios. “I think we should give it time. If anything, we should convince Santana that we are legitimate more than anyone else. She has the nose of a bloodhound when it comes to lies and deceit, after all.”

“It’s because she can be a lying and deceitful bitch,” Quinn retorted with a laugh.

“Right,” Rachel smiled. “So if we manage to convince her, of all people, no one would dare question her judgement. Everything will fall into place after that.”

Rachel played the arpeggios at a higher octave and her hands brushed Quinn’s just as the blonde reached for the keys at the same octave. She did not flinch when their hands touched, and to Rachel, that seemed like an improvement to a few hours ago, when Quinn nearly tripped out of her skin in her rush to deny she was anything higher than a one on the Kinsey scale.

“Rachel,” Quinn began after she took a deep breath. She remained staring at her hands, and how they danced against the ivory keys. “I hope you don’t get offended when I ask this, but — are you gay?”

At least there was no hint of malice and repulsion in her tone, Rachel thought. “Why would I be offended over that?”

“I - I just… I don’t know,” Quinn laughed, her tone wavering with such unease.

“I’m bisexual,” Rachel inclined her head.

“Oh. That makes sense.”

Rachel laughed and shook her head in amusement. “People tend to forget that, I suppose. Why do you ask?”

“You seem to already know what we should do,” Quinn observed. “Like you thought about it a lot. Not to mention that you seem… generally unphased about the entire thing — but I initially thought it was just because you have two dads.”

“That may be part of it, but I also have been obsessed over Hollywood and stardom for most of my young life, so I know how PR relationships work. I know it would be easier if we just go ahead and declare that we’re running for prom queen together,” Rachel rested her hands on her lap and stared at the ivory keys, the polished black sharps. “But wouldn’t you think it’s weird too, if let’s say, me and Santana suddenly decide to run for prom queen together?”

“You’re right,” Quinn admitted. “I wanted to thank you, by the way, for helping me achieve this.”

Quinn took a deep, stuttering breath. Rachel wanted to turn, to look at her features, but she imagined it would be too awkward if she did, so she stared ahead, at the same direction Quinn faced. “We’re kind of friends, Quinn,” Rachel said. “And this is what friends do.”

“Santana’s one of my best friends and I would never dream of asking her for help about this,” Quinn said with a chuckle.

“You two have a different rapport than what we have, that’s all,” Rachel laughed and looked at Quinn, who watched her with avid eyes. It took Rachel aback, but she managed to rein in the physical manifestation of her surprise and continued her train of thought. “With Santana, you have a type of frenemy relationship where you two thrive on pushing each other’s buttons. You two are competitive, and it drives you two to be better — albeit better _than_ one another.”

“And what’s our rapport?”

Rachel was at a loss of words. “We’re… friends, I suppose.”

“Who are about to blur the lines a little more?” Rachel heard the smile in Quinn’s voice, and she smiled a little too. “As long as we know where we stand, right?”

Something about Quinn’s words constricted Rachel’s chest a little too tight. Quinn’s comment, offhand and light her tone may be, felt something akin to preemptive rejection. Rachel imagined that Quinn drew a perimeter of salt around herself to prevent Rachel from breaching any boundary. A shaky breath and a smile later, the lunch bell resounded and she and Quinn walked their separate ways, to attend the rest of their classes.

+

The following days that passed weren’t… _awkward_ , exactly, but they were not comfortable either. With every class that Rachel and Quinn shared, they took to sitting beside each other. It alarmed teachers and students alike, to the point that one cheerleader asked Quinn if Rachel _forced_ to sit beside her. Rachel guessed that even though Quinn was no longer in the Cheerios, they still respected her.

Anyway, Quinn denied being forced to sit beside Rachel. She even went as far to clarify that she chose to sit beside Rachel, actually, then flashed the cheerleader a smile, and returned to her work. It alarmed the cheerleader, who shot Rachel a confused look, but left them alone.

And sometimes, when Rachel walked the hallways alone in between classes, she would pass by Quinn who would smile as if she was the only one worth smiling at, and say hello. Loud and clear, for everyone to witness. It sent Rachel’s heart aflame, but her fire extinguisher of a brain knew to put out a fire before it spread. It’s all fake, she reminded herself. 

But still, with the way Quinn looked at her. Those hazel eyes that held such promise. That smile that stretched her features brightened her face to the point of blinding. A girl could only handle so much.

With every day that passed, Santana’s curiosity grew worse. Everywhere Rachel looked, there she lurked, to the point that she even roped Kurt and Mercedes into watching Rachel whenever she was around Quinn. So during glee club on Thursday afternoon, the prickling at the back of her neck grew too much to bear when Quinn appeared and sat on the chair beside Rachel.

“Can I _help_ you?” Rachel asked irritably. She spun and faced Santana, who raised her brow.

“You can. It’s a simple answer to a simple question — what is going on between you and Miss Elsa over there?” Santana jerked her head at Quinn’s general direction.

“I didn’t know you watched _Frozen_.”

“Shut up — it’s a good movie about sisterly relationships and the soundtrack is a bop,” Santana snarled. “So? Answer my question, Olaf.”

Rachel winced and her hand went to her nose. Before she could offer a not-as-scathing rebuttal, Quinn squeezed her knee and faced Santana.

“Is it so wrong for me to try and be friends with Rachel?” Quinn asked with no frigidity to her tone — to cancel out the Elsa comment, perhaps? Rachel wondered.

Sure enough, it surprised Santana too. “Well, no, but… it’s weird. All of a sudden you grew morals and you’re nice to Rachel? Of course it’s no surprise to anyone in this room that Rachel will mount the lap of anyone who’s remotely nice to her but — ”

“It’s not all of a sudden,” Quinn’s voice was soft. Her eyes lingered on Rachel and she found herself swallowing hard and feeling a little faint. “It took me a while to realize that being a bitch to Rachel won’t help anyone, least of all, myself. I just want to get things right,” she smiled at Rachel and for that one sparkling minute, Rachel was — once again — in the brink of believing. Quinn looked at Santana again, who maintained a stern face. “Is that too much to ask?”

“No,” Santana conceded with a roll of her eyes. “Fine, I get it, alright? Being a bitch can be tiring. But you didn’t have to get all sappy about it.”

Quinn smoothed back her skirt and resumed her seat. Rachel chanced a glance towards their mutual ex who said nothing, but judging from the look on his face, he had a lot on his mind.

Like, literally a lot. So much so that he looked confused.

+

Friday finally rolled around, and the moment Rachel woke up and got on the elliptical to go through her mental agenda filled her with such zeal. While sure, she spent more time with Quinn the past week than they ever did in freshman year, it was still nerve-wracking to have _the_ Quinn Fabray in her house. For a tutoring session, but still.

She straightened her room in case they find their way there later tonight — and the thought of it made a blush erupt on Rachel’s cheeks. She showered and got dressed, said goodbye to her dads with a kiss on each cheek, and departed for school.

“So, today’s the day, huh?” Mike, along with Sam, appeared behind Rachel while she rummaged through her locker. She jumped from shock and glared at the two boys.

“What’s happening today?” Sam asked.

“Quinn’s tutoring me in Calculus after school — it’s not a big deal. Mike is just being weird by making a big stink about it.”

“Lies,” the taller boy smiled and leaned back against the wall of lockers. “No one can deny that something was going on between you two — add to that what happened in glee the other day? The gossip mill churns, and it churns fast, Rachel. I can see the headlines now: Fabray-Berry feud finally finished.”

“Why does Quinn’s last name go first? Doesn’t it make sense that mine does because then it would be alphabetical?”

Out of nowhere, Quinn appeared, and Rachel jumped from surprise — yet again, which made Quinn grin. “Mike was going for an alliteration in his fake headline.”

“I was.”

“And it’s also all about the shape the mouth makes to make the sound. “Also, the vowel of my name flows into yours — it makes sense.”

Rachel looked at Quinn, then at the two boys. “It really doesn’t, Quinn. Look at Sam, you broke him!” Sure enough, Sam was muttering ‘Berry-Fabray, Fabray-Berry,’ repeatedly.

Quinn giggled and roughed up Sam’s golden hair. “It’s that linguistics dork in him. I assume we’re still on for tonight?”

Rachel nodded her assent and the two boys excused themselves, Mike leading the still muttering Sam down the hallway. “I’m going to have to meet you at your house — I have something to do right after school. I’ll be at your place around five, maybe?”

“That’s perfectly fine by me,” Rachel smiled and closed her locker door. She fell into step beside Quinn who walked her to her first class of the day. They shared a smile before Quinn left with a final wave. Rachel, once again, admired the retreating form of Quinn’s back as it receded further and further down the hallway. 

She settled in her seat and took out her textbooks. Hopefully she would not be distracted by thoughts of a certain blonde ex-cheerleader. Her grades couldn’t slip now, after all.

+

The day passed with minimal issue, and it passed quickly — for Rachel, anyway. Most of her classes were a blur, except for the ones that she shared with Quinn, where everything seemed to shift and align into a sharp focus that it left Rachel exhausted. Everything about Quinn, from the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, or how her eyes skimmed a page to read the assigned text for AP English literature seemed worthy of note, in Rachel’s mind.

_Don’t be ridiculous_ , Rachel told herself. _How would knowing the exact shade of Quinn’s eyes help you in the long run when they seem to change every day?_

Like some kind of mood ring. Like, right now.

“What are you looking at?” Quinn asked, her voice a low murmur. “Do I have something on my face?”

Quinn looked at Rachel and it was like being steamrolled. This was worse than any crush she felt before, and Rachel _hated_ it. That distant feeling of hope, the nearness of how much she wants all of this to be real. 

“You do have something on your face.”

Quinn frowned and caressed her chin, her cheek. “What is it?”

“The prettiest face I’ve ever seen.”

Silence. A snort, and then a burst of laughter. Quinn threw her head back and laughed hard and loud. Since it was a time meant for silent reading, the classroom had been dead silent — at least, until Quinn laughed so much that the teacher, in his alarm, did not know how to react.

Quinn apologized for interrupting the silence, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her giggles. The entire time, Rachel watched her and felt incandescent about it.

“Oh Rachel,” Quinn said, breathless.

“Oh Quinn,” Rachel said. She did not mean to match Quinn’s breathlessness, but what can she do, when she felt dreamy-eyed for this girl beside her? They smiled at each other. Eyes were on them, Rachel knew, but for once, she did not want to be seen by anyone but Quinn — and only by Quinn.

+

Once classes were dismissed, Rachel’s pulse increased in pace that she trembled in trying to unlock her locker door. She wrestled her textbooks into the cramped space and remembered to retrieve her calculus textbook — as if she could forget — and closed her locker. On her way to the parking lot, she found Tina and Brittany so she paused to chat with them for a bit.

Quinn had gone to do whatever it was she needed to do after school — Rachel saw her pass by in a blur to head to her car. She looked like she was in a hurry, which made Rachel wonder if she was taking up Quinn’s time for their tutoring session. It worried her a little, and she made a mental note to apologize for it later.

Eventually, Mike, Sam, and Artie passed them by and stopped to chat with them as well.

“Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be at home?” Mike asked Rachel.

“If I’m at home, I’d be pacing and trying to keep still. I’d be vibrating from anxiety, so no thank you. Why do you care that Quinn is tutoring me so much?”

Mike shrugged. “I was hoping we could rope her into playing D&D with us, and you’re our ticket into doing that. Since Santana flat out refused and called us a bunch of nerds,” he looked to Brittany who pouted with a nod. “And Mercedes just gave us a blank look.”

“I hope Quinn calls us nerds too,” Sam groaned. “I don’t want to be DM to six people.”

After a few minutes of chatting about a variety of things, Rachel finally excused herself. Sure, there was still an hour and a half left before Quinn’s projected arrival time, but she needed to make sure her house was clean and that the snacks she prepared for their study session were adequate. Hell, if she got too anxious, she might even bake some bread. She said goodbye to her friends and drove home.

Waiting, as to be expected, amplified Rachel’s worries. She grew jittery, the ticking of the clock became magnified and it annoyed her, so she drowned out the noise by tuning the radio to the jazz station. She sat on the couch, her legs slung over the armrest. She was in the middle of singing along to Nina Simone’s _Here Comes the Sun_ when the door opened and in walked her dads.

“Why hello, little darling,” Leroy kissed the top of Rachel’s head. “Quinn not here yet?”

“Not yet — _dad!_ ” Rachel shrieked when she saw Hiram at the corner of her eye about to dip a celery stick in the hummus Rachel made from scratch. “Don’t you dare ruin the perfect swirl I made!”

Hiram chomped on the celery stick without the dip with a pout.

Rachel sat on the couch sandwiched between her two dads who asked about her day. She settled into the comfort of their tenderness, their affection. They discussed their days with one another, Rachel bursting in raucous laughter at the shenanigans her daddy went through at work.

And was interrupted by the doorbell ringing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I update on Thursdays, but I had some free time so what the heck, why not.

Rachel froze and both of her dads looked at each other.

“Shall we answer the door, or would you like to?”

Rachel sprang to her feet and hurried to the front door, but rather than open it immediately, she stared at the doorknob, took three deep breaths, and yanked the door open. On her stoop, Quinn Fabray carried a big smile and a white box. 

“Hi,” Quinn entered the house when Rachel stepped aside to allow her in. “Sorry I’m late, I had to go downtown to buy you these,” she opened up the box and inside were pastries and cupcakes and cinnamon rolls. “Have you had them? They’re from the vegan bakery on West Market.”

“Not yet, but thank you. I look forward to tasting them,” Rachel took the box from Quinn and placed it on the countertop along with the snacks she provided. “Would you like to meet my dads?”

As if on cue, Hiram and Leroy stood behind Rachel as if they were about to have their photo taken. They introduced themselves, and as did Quinn, shook their hands. Rachel watched them with a weird, queasy feeling in her gut. Her dads knew, after all, how Quinn treated her in the early years of high school. But judging from the easy laugh they shared from a joke Quinn told, they seemed… at ease.

That made two of the Berry family members to be comfortable, then.

While Quinn chatted and charmed her dads, confusion settled in Rachel’s brain like the fall of leaves in autumn. It was true that she was the one to suggest to Quinn that they should at least try to persuade the school population that they were friendly with each other now, but that was precisely the problem — there was no one from McKinley around, and yet Quinn seemed to act as if she was in the middle of the school hallway. And to go out of her way to purchase _vegan_ treats for Rachel?

Why then, was Quinn still playing up the charm?

“Excuse us,” Rachel interrupted the threesome that was her dads and Quinn. “Quinn _did_ come here to tutor me, not to entertain you two.”

“Oh, alright,” Hiram conceded.

“We’ll be in my room,” Rachel told them. She grasped Quinn’s wrist and took her up the stairs. “If we studied downstairs, we wouldn’t be able to get anything done. My dads tend to hover, as you can imagine.”

“Your dads are lovely,” Quinn entered Rachel’s room and took in the vision of the yellow walls, the pink floral print of her sheets, the stuffed animals on the bedspread. “Cute.”

Rachel sat on her desk chair and looked at Quinn. “Why did you feel the need to buy vegan pastries?”

Quinn sat on the edge of Rachel’s bed, and faced her. “What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ ,” Rachel took a deep breath. She loathed to be confused — it threatened a lot of things, made her question nearly everything about her life. And her standing in Quinn’s affections was one thing she perpetually doubted and questioned. “I know we agreed to show that we are starting to become friends — but that was supposed to be for school! No one here can see you being nice — ”

“Except your dads.”

Quinn’s demeanour shifted from warm and relaxed, to tense. Rachel felt the palpable shift in her posture, in the way Quinn looked at her, all steel gazes and set jaw. “Do you _not_ want me to be nice to you?”

“I - I do, I do!” Rachel’s knuckles went white where she grasped the hem of her skirt.

“Then why are you suddenly being weird about it? _You_ said we’re friends, and isn’t this what friends do?”

Rachel took a deep breath as if she was about to launch into a tirade that would take her to outer space, but resolved to exhale slowly and calmly. “You’re right. I’m so sorry, Quinn. I just have a lot of nerves,” she offered Quinn a shaky smile. “I don’t even know why.”

“It’s okay,” Quinn chuckled. “I think you’re still having some latent issues when I used to be so mean to you. And I’m sorry — I’ll keep apologizing until you truly believe me. Our being friends is not just because of this prom thing — I won’t stop being nice to you after we won. Okay?”

“Okay.” Rachel softened and she grew tired all of a sudden. She flopped face down on the bed. Only the sound of Quinn’s giggles made her look up.

They settled into homework mode — with Rachel sitting on her desk chair while Quinn stood beside her and offered instructions that were so concise and clear that Rachel _actually_ understood the concepts after a few attempts. 

“Good job. See, you’re not as hopeless as you thought,” Quinn teased.

“It’s all thanks to you.”

“You can thank me in your Oscars speech when you win for the role of calculus expert.”

Quinn assigned a few more pages from the textbook for Rachel to solve while she looked through the books on Rachel’s bookshelf. There were plenty of celebrity biographies and memoirs, and books about Broadway on the upper shelves. On the lower shelves were fiction books, mostly from Rachel’s childhood. Quinn eventually settled on _Little House on the Prairie_ and reclined on Rachel’s bed to read. Rachel finished her exercises and she stretched her arms over her head while Quinn checked her answers.

“A few mistakes here and there, but not bad.”

“I had a great teacher!”

Eventually, Rachel’s dads called them down to have dinner. Together, all four of them made a quick meal of a vegetable stir-fry with spicy black pepper beef on the side for the omnivores at the table. It heartened Rachel that Quinn seemed to have a banter with her dads, and they seem to like her back. 

When it came time for dessert, Rachel took a big bite out of the vegan cinnamon roll and whimpered from the sheer delight of it.

“You know how there’s a Cinnabon at the mall? Every time I pass by, I am tempted to go vegetarian for just one moment. But this is amazing,” Rachel licked the cream cheese frosting from her upper lip, and beamed at the blonde. “Thank you, Quinn.”

They passed the time chatting with each other, with Hiram and Leroy. When Rachel used to date Finn, he would always be stiff and polite that Rachel wondered where all his personality went in the presence of her dads. But Quinn, with the easy smile, the constant stream of wit and charm that flew out of her mouth, her dads had no choice but to be beguiled.

But when Leroy offered to show Quinn Rachel’s baby photos, however, that was when she cut her dads off to return to her bedroom. 

We _are_ actual friends, Rachel thought in awe while she climbed the stairs with Quinn trailing behind her. The only ‘kind-of’ about this was, Rachel considered, to be the aftermath of prom. Once prom was over, and, let’s say she and Quinn won the title of prom couple, would that be it? Would they then return to passing each other in the hallways like before, with barely a smile to greet each other? Quinn said she would continue to be nice, but that does not guarantee the maintenance of this closeness that they presently shared. And Rachel’s heart ached because of it.

_Stop_ , Rachel chastised herself. _Stop worrying about the future and focus on the present. Quinn’s here with you now, isn’t she?_

“I think we should discuss our next plan of attack,” Rachel told Quinn who was reclined on her bed, stroking her belly. “Quinn, are you awake?”

“I am, I’m just so full,” she had a lazy smile on her face and she squirmed to sit up and lean against Rachel’s headboard. “Okay, what do you have in mind?”

“With three weeks left until prom, we might have to shake a leg in the pacing of this… relationship, so to speak. Maybe it’s time to act like we’re closer next week. Be a bit more physical, more touchy with each other, perhaps?”

“And are you sure you won’t freak out this time if I come out of the blue and hug you?” Quinn asked, her brow raised.

“I think it’s best if we practice proximity.”

“You want to practice hugging?”

“And holding hands too, maybe?”

Quinn stood up and as did Rachel. They met halfway across the bedroom and stood in front of each other. Their eyes met and after a beat, the two girls let out a snort and a laugh over the absurdity of what they were about to do. Rachel took that moment of distraction to catch Quinn’s hand in hers. And it baffled her, how easy it was for Quinn’s palm to open to allow their fingers to interlock.

“See, not so bad, right?” Quinn said with a small grin.

“No,” Rachel replied after a hard swallow. “Not bad at all.”

The blonde tugged Rachel closer and guided her arm to wrap around her waist. Quinn released Rachel’s hand so she could embrace Rachel by the shoulders, her forearms loose around Rachel’s neck. “How are you feeling? Not freaking out, I hope?”

Rachel had never been this close to Quinn, and it was both terrifying and relaxing. She smelled so sweet, her perfume radiated off her skin like it was her natural scent. The smaller girl tightened her arms around Quinn’s waist and rested her cheek against her chest. “I’m not freaking out at all,” she sighed.

Rachel could not tell how much time they spent standing in the middle of her bedroom and hugging. Quinn rested her cheek against the side of Rachel’s face, drew soothing circles between her shoulderblades, while Rachel focused on the steady sound of Quinn’s heartbeat and memorized the shape of her waist and the dip of her spine. The sound of Quinn’s breath, so close to her ear, made her drowsy.

It was not until Quinn’s phone rang that they dislodge from the embrace so Quinn could answer the call.

Rachel never really practiced hugging before — holding hands, either. But this was different, wasn’t it? It was a performative relationship — for public consumption more than anything else. This was, after all, with the goal of the most public coupledom in high school. 

How come, then, did it feel so… easy? And natural?

“That was my mom — she was looking for me,” Quinn shook her head. “I guess I did just say I’d be home late and not _when_ I’d be home.”

The clock on Rachel’s nightstand read 8:18 pm.

Quinn gathered her things and Rachel followed her out of her bedroom so she could say goodbye to Rachel’s dads.

“Bye, Quinn! You’re welcome here anytime!”

Quinn thanked them both for having her and she turned to Rachel. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Sadly no. I have dance classes at ten in the morning. And in the afternoon I have to go to Sam’s.”

“Why would you go to Sam’s?” Quinn asked, her head tilted in confusion.

“Oh, well,” Rachel bit her lip and fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. “I play Dungeons and Dragons with him, Mike, and others. It’s — don’t worry about it. I’ll be busy for most of Saturday, but I’m free on Sunday!”

“I can’t do Sundays – I have church. Also, what’s Dungeons and Dragons...?”

“Oh, no, Quinn,” Leroy shook his head in warning, his lips clamped shut. “Don’t ask Rachel that question if you don’t have four hours to spare.”

Rachel huffed and glared at her dads. “I do not appreciate being made fun of for my hobby.” To Quinn, she said. “I can tell you all about it next time, if you like.”

Quinn laughed. “Okay. I’ll see you on Monday then.” She squeezed Rachel’s hand and that was when Rachel realized they have been holding hands all along. She saw her dads glance at each other, and was grateful they did not say anything.

“Bye Quinn,” Rachel released Quinn’s hand to open the front door for her. Quinn flashed her the sweetest, most heart-wrenching smile that it took all of Rachel’s willpower to not simply lean against the doorway and sigh.

Of course, she could not because her dads were watching her. Rachel shouted a final ‘bye Quinn!’ before she slammed the front door shut.

“Rachel, honey, our dear, sweet darling – our favourite baby girl…” Leroy began.

“I’m your _only_ baby girl.”

“I’m glad to see you and Quinn are getting along,” Hiram commented. “With the way she acts around you, I would never have thought she was the one who made your life miserable last year.”

There was a fierce glint in her dad’s eyes, and it unnerved Rachel, and made Leroy look at her husband in surprise. “Do you not like Quinn?” Rachel asked her dad.

“No, no. It’s not that at all. Well,” Hiram opened his arms and Rachel nestled into the spicy aroma of his perfume, the faint scent of aftershave on his chin. “It’s a little bit of that, I suppose. I like Quinn as a person, but that does not erase the fact that she was the reason you used to come home from school crying.”

Behind Rachel, Leroy wrapped his arms around his husband and her so that Rachel was cocooned in their strong arms, their masculine scent. “She’s apologized about that.”

Hiram sniffed. “I know we teach you to forgive but sometimes you give your forgiveness away far too easily. But,” he sighed deeply and kissed Rachel’s forehead. “I trust your judgement. Because goodness knows – you got it from me.”

Rachel giggled and looked up at him. “Thanks, dad.”

+

The following day, Rachel woke up early to exercise and avoid thinking about Quinn altogether. She spent the night before with her arms splayed out in the middle of her bed and reimagined, or attempted to reimagine, anyway – the sensation of Quinn’s arms around her. Rachel had always been physically affectionate – her dads were physically affectionate people too, after all – and so it felt more authentic, this display of her affection towards Quinn now that she was, effectively, sanctioned to express her feelings for Quinn. 

The next step, as they progressed this relationship, was to sing a song for Quinn during glee.

But that seemed getting too ahead of herself, really.

And what happened to not thinking about Quinn?

Rachel stepped off the elliptical and headed to the kitchen for a breakfast smoothie. She took the puzzle page from the _Lima News_ and solved the sudoku while her dad read the news to her. After that, she showered and her daddy drove her to the dance studio where she had been taking dance classes since she could walk.

It wasn’t really a class – it was more of an opportunity to have studio time since Rachel had long since surpassed the dance instructor. She found Mike and Brittany practicing a complicated-looking waltz that involved elements of swing dance and the tango. While Rachel did her ballet stretches, she watched them in clear and abundant awe. Then she did a few of her dance routines. It felt a little unfair that Brittany only needed to watch her for a minute or two before she could replicate the stances and the moves that Rachel did before she could do them herself, with such precision.

It was eleven-thirty when Rachel emerged from the changing rooms dressed in a burgundy sweater and a grey skirt. She walked into the lobby of the dance studio where Brittany and Mike waited for her.

“How was the tutoring session?” Mike offered to carry Rachel’s gym bag for her while they walked to the parking lot to his car.

The memory of being held in Quinn’s arms filled Rachel with a sudden warmth, and she blushed. “It was good. Quinn’s an awesome teacher.”

“Did you mention playing D&D to her?” Brittany asked.

“I did, in passing. She doesn’t even know what it is.”

“We’ll work on her,” Mike grinned.

He drove them to Sam’s house where Artie was already being lowered from the ramp of his dad’s van. Brittany wheeled Artie inside where the dining table had already been set up. The DM screen with Tiamat printed across the back was propped open to shield Sam’s notes. The binders that held their character sheets which Sam kept for them were already in place – Mike, Brittany, and Artie on one side of the dining table, with Rachel and Tina across from them.

They pooled their money to pay Sam for the pizza and they stood in the middle of the cramped kitchen, since the dining table was out of commission. Rachel and Tina played with Sam’s younger siblings after they finished eating.

“Brittany thinks we’re going to face a beholder at the end of the dungeon,” Tina whispered. It had to be kept on the downlow, given that Sam was patently against out-game research and knowledge.

“What!” Rachel shrieked, and Tina clamped a hand over her mouth.

Tina nodded solemnly and uncovered Rachel’s mouth. “Don’t make it too obvious that you know. But also… remember to Countercharm whenever you can.”

They settled around the table and Rachel retrieved her pink dice set from her bag. She took a pencil from the cup and swept her hair to the side. Sam took a drink of water, stretched the muscles of his jaw and lips, and began his narration.

+

Sam announced for a break after a particularly grueling stealth mission to enter the mansion of a potential vampire. Rachel and her party members released a gasp of relief that no one died or fainted or got caught. Rachel touched her cheeks, warm from the laughter of roleplaying. She enjoyed D&D because it was, pretty much, just like acting. 

She rose to her feet to stretch and check her phone. To her surprise, a few texts from Quinn.

I looked up what D&D is

I didn’t think you were into that geeky stuff

Looks fun though

At this, Rachel grinned. She came up to Mike and flashed him the text.

“Awesome!” He pumped his fist. “Ask her if she wants to sit in during a session next week! Sam! Come on – we need a sixth person to complete the Steam Rollers!”

Mike went off to talk to Sam while Rachel responded to Quinn.

It’s not that geeky

It is, a little

You roll dice and play pretend

And there are dragons

What the heck is a halfling?

It makes for good acting exercise!

Mike wanted me to ask you if you wanted to sit in during  
a session next week

To see if you would, at some point,  
want to join us

Rachel closed her phone. She was nervous that Quinn would say no, though that was likelier, wasn’t it? She used to be the head cheerleader, cared about popularity – why would she want to play D&D?

And a halfling is like a hobbit

Her phone buzzed and she took a quick peek.

I have no idea what a hobbit is

And sure! I’d love to see you guys play

Rachel squeaked. “Mike!” She only had to yell, and immediately, the tall boy grinned and shot Rachel a thumbs up. The sheer excitement of having Quinn at their table was too much to bear that Rachel’s conscious mind only skimmed over the fact that Quinn did not have marginal knowledge over what a hobbit was.

They resumed the rest of the game where they crawled further and further into the dungeon until Sam abruptly announced that they stopped in the middle of an open cavern that they found in the mansion’s basement. The game had been running for more than four hours, and the late spring sun was on its way to sinking in the horizon. 

“Dude, come _on!_ ” Artie groaned. “It was just getting to the good part!” The rest of the party nodded in agreement.

Sam grinned and shrugged. “See you guys on Monday.”

Rachel helped put away the figurines, the maps, and the binders in Sam’s kit. As the five of them headed out, they thanked Sam’s parents for letting them use their dining room for the day. After they said goodbye to Artie whose dad picked him up, Brittany, Tina, and Rachel piled into Mike’s car.

He dropped them off at each of their houses. Rachel shoved a ten dollar bill into Mike’s shirt pocket for her part of the gas money pool and ran off while he shouted after her in an attempt to refuse the money she gave.

In her living room, Rachel relaxed with her dads. Told them about her day. In that moment, with her dads on either side of her, after having spent the day adventuring with friends, and with Quinn Fabray potentially joining the Steam Rollers, she couldn’t believe how content she felt.

The icing on the cake would be to win prom queen. And possibly Nationals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for any and all comments!


	3. Chapter 3

Sunday was spent oscillating between finishing up the rest of her homework — her history essay, the lab report, and answering a series of textbook questions regarding the differences and similarities between Freudian and Jungian psychology — and texting Quinn. Before they made this prom queen agreement, they rarely had reason to text one another and it surprised Rachel how different Quinn was in person versus through text, as evidenced by the copious amounts of emojis and GIFs that littered Rachel’s phone screen.

It was not a complaint necessarily — Rachel enjoyed seeing yet another facet of Quinn’s personality that not a lot of people get to witness.

Come Monday, Rachel had a spring in her step. She approached her locker only to find that Quinn waited for her there. Their eyes met, and in Rachel’s eyes, it was like witnessing a sunrise, except more beautiful. Quinn had been checking her phone moments prior, but the sound of footsteps bade her to look up. She saw Rachel, and Rachel saw her. The slow spread of a smile that stemmed from the center of her lips, rose to the edges of her mouth, to her cheeks, and eventually, to her stark hazel eyes. Rachel’s smile went from a zero to a full on beam.

She couldn’t help it — Quinn was always a sight to behold.

“Hi,” Rachel skipped on over to Quinn and shyly nestled into the blonde’s embrace when she opened her arms to take Rachel in. 

“Hi. Sorry I fell asleep while we were discussing how much of a dork you were.”

Rachel huffed and rolled her eyes. She opened her locker to swap out textbooks and retrieve ones she needed for the day. “I wasn’t the one waxing poetic about period dramas last night. Oh, maybe you should wear an Elizabethan gown for prom!”

“I know you’re joking but I really would, if it fit the prom theme.”

“There’s a prom theme?”

Quinn raised a curt brow and crossed her arms across her chest. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Rachel suddenly got very nervous. Gone was the playful banter in Quinn’s voice, replaced by the irrevocable sternness of the Head Cheerleader. Maybe she shouldn’t joke about prom, given how much Quinn took it seriously. It would be the Rachel Berry equivalent of someone mocking Barbara, or making fun of Broadway as an institution. “Um, it has something to do with fairy tales, doesn’t it?”

Quinn’s shoulders visibly lost tension. “Oh, good. You _were_ joking.”

A sigh of relief escaped Rachel. Quinn reached out for Rachel’s hand, laced their fingers, and together they walked to class.

+

If the whispers that trailed them were any indication, Rachel would dare say that the subtle display of the beginnings of their physical intimacy was a success.

Everywhere she and Quinn went, they would find a way to be making contact. While Rachel chatted with Tina about their assignment for Chemistry, Quinn would reach out to fix a strand of Rachel’s hair, or straighten the collar of her shirt so it peeked out properly above her sweater. Tina’s reaction was one that they expected — the widened eyes, the slight slacked jaw, then the tightening of her lips shut. As soon as Quinn and Rachel spun around, Rachel chanced to look back and sure enough, Tina’s fingers furiously typed across the screen of her phone.

“It’s working,” Rachel gloated during lunch. She and Quinn were outdoors, sitting on a bench underneath a maple tree. The football field and the bleachers were within sight. The sun was warm, and the wind rustled through the leaves. 

Quinn licked the yogurt from the foil lid of her cup and smiled at Rachel. “If Broadway doesn’t work out — ”

Rachel gasped. “Quinn, don’t you ever dare say something like that again in your life — ”

The blonde snickered. “I’m just saying — keep the idea of being a publicist to a celebrity as a back-up plan because you are so good at this.”

“Why thank you,” Rachel grinned. “I graciously accept your compliment.”

“What’s next? Should we announce that we’re dating? To glee club, at least.”

“No,” Rachel said after she swallowed a bite of clementine. “Since you never announced that you were dating Finn, Sam, nor even Puck, why should you announce that you’re dating me? Albeit in a fake way, you understand,” Rachel rushed to say, her ears reddening at the slip. The constant reminder to herself that _none of this is real_ fluctuated, and the need to remember grew more pressing than ever.

Still, Quinn seemed unaffected by Rachel’s slip. So, Rachel continued.

“You’re a private person, Quinn. So it would seem remarkably out of character if you mention something about us outright. As for me, however… Please be ready to be sung to during glee.”

The smile on Quinn’s features was small, sincere. “I look forward to it.”

Rachel found no hint of sarcasm whatsoever in Quinn’s tone.

“So,” Quinn teased. “We’re dating now, huh?”

A blush crept on Rachel’s cheeks, and she wanted to bury her face in her hands to hide the redness there. “We’re dating now.”

And in the buzz of that late spring day, with their thighs touching while they sat on the wooden bench that overlooked the school, Rachel wondered if she would emerge out of this ordeal emotionally unscathed.

+

As the week progressed, Rachel and Quinn began to plan their prom queen campaigning in earnest. The first thing they did was to have their photos taken in an amateur photoshoot by a photography student.

Quinn fixed Rachel’s hair. “Let me see your prom queen smile.”

Rachel flashed Quinn her wide grin, but one look from the blonde told her that it was not correct.

“That’s the smile you make when you already won,” Quinn teased. “Close your lips, tilt your head like so,” she directed Rachel into a specific position that, though contrived, still felt natural, much to Rachel’s surprise. “There, perfect. Hold still.” Quinn positioned herself to stand behind Rachel and rested a hand on Rachel’s hip. The photography student took countless pictures, judging from the amount of times the shutter made the snapping noise.

“How did you get someone to help you? Did you bribe them?” Rachel asked Quinn while the student uploaded their photos into the school computer.

“I didn’t have to do much,” Quinn admitted. “I just asked.”

“I think they’ve always wanted to photograph you,” Rachel said with a chuckle. “Right?” She asked the student, who blushed and nodded. “See? It’s because you’re beauty itself, Quinn.”

The blonde laughed and took the SD card from the student with a soft thank you. They left the photography studio and walked the length of the hallway. School was over, so hardly any people were around. “Now I get to make campaign posters. Are you free tomorrow night? I want to discuss dresses and corsages with you.”

“Well, daddy _has_ been asking when you would come over again,” Rachel said. “I’d have to shift my MySpace upload schedule but — ”

“You can do it while I’m there, can’t you?”

Rachel paused. “If you don’t mind waiting.”

“Not at all,” Quinn squeezed Rachel’s hand and released it when they arrived at the parking lot to part ways. “See you tomorrow, Rachel.”

+

It was shocking how fast Quinn designed and printed the campaign posters. By the time Rachel arrived at school the next day, they were posted — not on every surface, but tactfully and in prime locations, like above the water fountain, or against certain classroom doors. The stares that she received unnerved her at first.

“Rachel!” Kurt and Mercedes ran to approach her, each of them holding on a copy of Rachel and Quinn’s campaign poster in their hands. “Why didn’t you tell us about this?” Kurt sounded livid, his voice in a higher pitch than normal.

“This has more impact, don’t you think?” She inspected the poster and grinned. “And don’t we look great?”

“Since when were you and Quinn bosom buddies?” Mercedes demanded.

“Maybe if you two looked up from your phones once in a while, you would have noticed,” Quinn came up behind Rachel and slung a casual arm around Rachel’s neck. The two gossip queens gawked.

“And I’m sure Tina mentioned it at some point.”

“We thought she was joking!”

“Clearly,” Quinn used her body to box Kurt and Mercedes away from Rachel. “We’re still on for tonight? I promise I won’t be late because I had to go downtown to buy you vegan cinnamon rolls again.”

Behind the blonde, Kurt and Mercedes looked at each other. _Clearly_ they were being dismissed and so they went off on their way.

“You know, you can stand to be a _teensy_ bit nicer to them. Maybe it’ll be their votes that get you to win prom queen.”

“If it’s their vote that would make us win, I don’t want it. So, back to a more important topic — are we still on for tonight?”

Rachel giggled and nodded. “Of course we’re on. Daddy is excited to see you again.”

Quinn frowned. “Does your dad not like me?”

“It’s not that,” Rachel said carefully while they walked the hallway together, amidst the stares and the whispers. “He just thinks I forgave you too easily — after all the bullying and such. But I told him,” Rachel assured a worried-looking Quinn. “That you’ve changed, and that you genuinely like me — more or less.”

“What do you mean, ‘more or less’?”

_Damn it, Rachel,_ she thought to herself. _Why did you have to go and qualify everything you say?_

“I just meant that…” Rachel swallowed and mulled her words over in her brain. Her voice lowered into a hush. “You like me _only_ as a friend and not as this... couple that we pretend to be.”

“Oh, right,” the furrow of the frown on Quinn’s features smoothed, and she looked visibly calmer. “I can’t do much regarding that, I guess. I can tell your dad that I’ve changed as much as I want, but until he _sees_ that I have…” She allowed her words to trail off, a thoughtful glint in her eye. Rachel remained silent to fully appreciate the way Quinn looked as she thought. She really was so damn beautiful that Rachel found it difficult to look away. She could sit there in wanting, listening to every word that spilled out of Quinn’s lips, if she would let her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“N-nothing,” Rachel flushed a bright pink. “I’ll see you later!”

Phew. That was a close one.

+

On the way between classes, the PA system made a beeping sound that preceded every announcement.

“Will Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry please come to Principal Figgins’ office immediately? Thank you.”

Rachel frowned and wove her path through crowds of students. By the time she arrived at the reception desk of the principal’s office, Quinn was already there. She shrugged, and they were ushered into the office. There, Principal Figgins sat behind his desk. The head of the prom committee was there as well.

“I called you here because of your posters,” Figgins said with a weary tone. “Is it true that you two are campaigning for prom queens – together?”

“Yes,” Rachel said firmly. “Together, not _against_ each other. Don’t you think it’s about time that the archaic tradition of prom royalty be free from the rigidity of heteronormativity?”

Figgins looked at Quinn, then at Rachel. “Hm. You’re the prom committee,” he addressed the other student in the room. “It’s your decision.”

“Oh, good,” the student said with a grin. “We already rewrote the ballot forms. We made it so that the student body votes for the couple running together so they don’t do prank write-ins or anything like that.” They showed Rachel a sheet of paper. On it were the list of couples and checkboxes beside their names.

“Thank you. I appreciate that our name is on top of the list.” Quinn told the head of the prom committee, who blushed.

“I swear I’m not biased.”

+

Rachel beamed upon Quinn’s entry into the music room. The rest of the club were chatting amongst themselves about schoolwork, about prom, about Regionals, and Quinn was one of the last ones to arrive.

“You’re late,” Rachel chastised.

“I’m not late, you’re just early,” Quinn sat beside her. “You look like you’re planning something…”

Rather than respond, Rachel raised her hand. Mr. Schue sighed (and the glee club groaned). “Yes, Rachel?”

“I would like to perform a song please, Mr. Schue.”

He gestured towards the space in front of him. “Go ahead – not that anyone can stop you.”

Rachel beamed and shot up from her seat. She swept the front of her skirt and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. She positioned a microphone stand in front of her. With Quinn’s eyes on her, the rest of the club hardly mattered. Let them scoff and groan – Rachel needed to get something out of her chest, and it was convenient that it also furthered their agenda – hers and Quinn’s – into leading the world to believe that they were a couple.

The opening notes of the pop-y, upbeat song started and Rachel sang the first stanza. For the second, she unhooked the mic from the stand and danced around, smiling, her eyes on Quinn – and only Quinn.

“ _Oh, with you I got to get bolder, I just wanna get a little bit closer, and I press you to the pages of my heart,_ ” Rachel sang into the microphone with a bright grin. _“Don't go, no, the night's not over, I just wanna get a little bit closer. And I press you to the pages of my heart.”_

“ _I want you in my room_ , _on the bed, on the floor,_ ” at this, the glee club cheered and hollered. Rachel could see the pink rising in Quinn’s cheeks, and it encouraged her to be coyer, to be more playful. And to be more explicit. She pointed at Quinn. “ _I wanna do bad things to you, slide on through my window, I want you in my room. Baby don't you want me too?_ ” Rachel asked, pointing to herself with a pout.

The song finished and Rachel sat beside Quinn once more. The blonde’s face was a bright red but she was smiling, her eyes bright and filled with amusement.

“That was pretty gay,” Santana said, impressed. Rachel beamed at her.

“Did you like it?” Rachel leaned closer to Quinn, and she casually slung an arm around Rachel’s shoulder.

“Let me put it this way,” Quinn’s low voice, her hot breath caressed the shell of Rachel’s ear. “I want to be in your room too.”

+

Of course, it was inevitable that Finn would confront Rachel about the campaign posters. It took him a long time to do so, which surprised Rachel — though then again, perhaps not.

“What is this?” He demanded, jabbing his pointer finger at the bulletin board where Rachel and Quinn’s campaign poster hung. For some reason, they remained untouched — no one drew moustaches or beards, no black eyes and crossed-out faces. They remained pristine, and Rachel wondered why. “Did Quinn put you up to this?”

“No,” Rachel lied. “Of course not! Quinn merely suggested it and I thought it would be fun to do with her.”

Finn scowled. “Since when were _you_ into _girls_? Since when was _Quinn_ into _girls_?”

He asked far too many questions — simple ones, but difficult to answer, nonetheless. “I’ve always like girls, Finn.”

“You dated me and you liked girls?” His voice reached fever pitch, made him sound prepubescent.

“One can like girls _and_ boys, you know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He demanded.

“Because I knew you would react poorly,” snapped Rachel. 

Finn gritted his teeth and looked around the hallway and saw that a handful of students were watching them. At least he had an inkling on how it made him appear — threatening, intolerant. An overall jerk. So he allowed his shoulders to lose the tension. “It just took me by surprise, that’s all. I just want you to be careful — Quinn is mean and terrible and evil and — ”

“Finn,” Rachel said sharply, and the boy paused in shock. “Don’t talk about Quinn in that way — with me _or_ anyone else.”

“I’m trying to protect you — ”

“Thank you, but there really is no need.”

“And it’s not like you would win prom queen anyway — ”

Rachel spun on her heel and walked away. Willfully ignored anything that sounded remotely like Finn’s voice that begged her to come back.

+

During a study period, Rachel found Mike sitting on the library lounge chairs, his chemistry textbook propped open on his lap. “Mike, can I talk to you?”

“Oh, hey,” he cleared the seat beside her which was covered with piles of his books. “I was going to text you if I didn’t see you at all today but congrats on the prom queen thing. I didn’t realize you and Quinn were together- _together_.”

“It’s not like we won yet,” Rachel smoothed her skirt down and sat beside Mike. Fidgeted with the hem of her skirt and stared at her hands.

“What’s wrong?”

Rachel released a nervous, shaky breath, looked around to see if anyone was within eavesdropping range. Once satisfied that no one cared about them, she looked at Mike. “Quinn and I — we’re not… we’re not together- _together_.” Mike raised a brow but remained quiet, and for that Rachel was grateful. “She wanted to win prom queen so badly that she asked _me_ because, and I quote, everyone likes lesbians now.”

“She’s right,” Brittany popped up from behind the couch Mike was sitting on. Rachel shrieked in surprise and clutched her hand to her chest. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. But Quinn’s right. Everyone loves lesbians. I should know – I love one.”

Rachel took deep breaths to calm her racing heart. 

“You and Quinn do have that enemies to friends to lovers thing going on between you two,” Mike said thoughtfully. “And people like to root for the underdogs.”

“I know,” Rachel sighed. “But the thing is, I’m so confused about my feelings. I thought, this would be another good acting exercise! Except I have to act at all hours that me and Quinn are a couple. There’s no boundary of a set filming time, or a stage performance. And there’s no script — I have to go by what feels authentic to me!”

Rachel rambled while Mike and Brittany nodded and listened.

“You’re in love with Quinn,” Brittany said in awe.

“I don’t – I’m not…” Rachel sputtered. “I don’t know if I _am_ , okay? It sure feels like it, but I don’t know if that’s because I’m supposed to act like I am, or if I actually _am_ , as you say, in love with her.” Heat erupted on her face at the words that spilled out of her mouth. She turned to Mike, who watched Rachel with an amused smile.

“I think the only thing you should remember is that the relationship itself is fake,” he said calmly. “So try not to delude yourself that Quinn loves you until you’ve had a real conversation about it.” It hurt to hear those words, but Rachel clamped her lips together and nodded. “But your feelings? They can be real, despite your circumstances.”

The study period ended and all three of them packed up their things. Mike excused himself to go to the washroom, so it left Brittany and Rachel to walk the halls together.

“I wish Santana and I would run for prom couple too,” Brittany said with a small sigh. “I keep telling her no one cares about her being a lesbian _that_ much, but she’s scared.”

“I’m glad she wouldn’t, because me and Quinn would hate to compete against you guys,” Rachel joked, and it brought a smile to Brittany’s lips.

“You’re right – if we ran for prom couple, you two would go _down_. Hopefully on each other.”

Rachel’s jaw dropped at the insinuation, but Brittany saw Santana at that moments so she bounded like an elegant gazelle towards the girl, who smiled, radiant like the sun, at the sight of Brittany. Rachel watched them, the easy way their pinkies linked, the loving smile on their faces. She turned a corner to find Quinn by Sam’s locker. They spoke in hushed tones. A sheet of paper passed from Sam’s binder to Quinn’s.

“Hi,” Rachel greeted. The two blonds stiffened and scrambled to hide whatever it was they were doing. It amused Rachel to see them visibly guilty over the paper that crossed hands. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Sam said, his voice cracking like he was going through puberty again. He cleared his throat. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head, missy.” He drawled in a deep, Texan accent.

“Hmm,” Rachel looked at Sam, then at Quinn, who only smiled and batted her eyelashes.

“It’s nothing,” Quinn said as she looped her arm around Rachel’s to walk her to her next class.

+

Rachel rode in Quinn’s car to head to her house where they talked about casual, airy things, like classes and homework. When the conversation steered towards how well their ploy seemed to be working, Rachel had to resist shutting up like a panicked clam.

“Did you know Finn had the _gall_ to offer to run for prom king with me — only because his masculinity felt threatened that his two ex-girlfriends are together and running for prom queen?” Quinn rambled as she made the turn into Rachel’s driveway. “Honestly, the nerve of him. Maybe in another world, I would have used him to win, but,” she shut off the car engine so they were immersed in silence of just the two of them. Quinn’s grip on the steering wheel loosened, and her shoulders sank to relax. “I think I like this world better.”

She smiled at Rachel and stepped out of the car to head into the Berry house.

And honestly. Rachel was at her wit’s end.

How could Quinn say those things and not expect fierce internal turmoil? It was unfair — it was uncouth — it was positively breathtaking, when Quinn said those things. The hopeful side of Rachel basked in it, relished in Quinn’s words and the way she said them with abandon.

Rachel followed Quinn into her house, where Quinn was already chummy and chatting with Leroy at a mile a minute, while Hiram watched them in amusement. “Ah, there’s the girl who actually lives here,” Hiram teased with no malice at all in his voice. “Hello, darling. How was school?”

Resisting the urge to give a teenager-ly response (a gruff, ‘eh’), Rachel expounded on the events of her day. She immediately excused herself, however.

“I’m a bit late recording and uploading. I’ll be back,” she told Quinn, who nodded from her seat on the couch. Rachel climbed upstairs to her room and set up her camera. For most of the day, when her mind was not preoccupied by thoughts of classes, Quinn, and her feelings for Quinn, she thought about what song she should cover next. 

After her vocal warm-ups, she did a one take performance of _Miss Marmelstein_ as originally sung by Barbra, edited it with an intro and outro, then allowed the video to render. She returned downstairs, found Quinn as she left her — talking to her daddy, but this time, Hiram was with them now, too.

“Did you manage to charm my dad already?” Rachel asked when they returned to her bedroom.

“I’d like to think so. We talked about you the entire time and I think that’s what made him realize I like you now.”

Rachel knew what Quinn meant when she said ‘like’ – she meant that she can tolerate Rachel and not want to put her fist through the singer’s mouth – but a girl can dream, right? To her detriment, perhaps, but she can dream.

They sat on Rachel’s bed and Quinn took out her phone to show Rachel her dress ideas. “We don’t have to match exactly,” she said. “I think contrasting colours would work better. Like, here,” Quinn showed a photo of a pastel blue gown. “I’m thinking of getting this.”

“It contrasts with pink,” Rachel said with a grin.

“And you love pink,” Quinn laughed. “I know. So you can get a pink gown and I get the blue and it’ll work out without being too obvious about it. About the corsage…”

“I already know what corsage I’m getting for you,” Rachel blurted. Seeing Quinn’s expression, she giggled. “And it’s a surprise, so don’t even ask.”

Quinn conceded easily, which came as a shock to Rachel. She half expected the head cheerleader to strong-arm her into divulging all her secrets. “I trust your taste,” she explained with a shrug. “When will you be free to have dinner with me and my mom?”

“I — whenever you want, Quinn,” Rachel asked in confusion. “But may I ask — why?”

“My mom expects me to be prom queen. It’s what makes me want to be prom queen too, to some extent. She’s been asking me non-stop about my plans to win and well,” Quinn shrugged. “I haven’t told her that I’m doing it with you yet.”

From what Rachel understood of Quinn’s parents and upbringing, she came from a religious family — hence the getting kicked out of her house because of her teen pregnancy. Quinn hardly talked about her family life during this period in her life, but she did mention that her mom was more open, more communicative than she had ever been. 

So maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, right?

“I’m weirdly nervous about it,” Quinn admitted. “It’s not like I’m actually coming out, though. Still, it’s risky — but what is she going to do, kick me out again?”

“I hope not,” Rachel winced. “But if she does, I’m sure you can stay here. Not that she will,” she said, to reiterate. 

“But if she does,” Quinn repeated, a smile on her lips. “Can you do Friday?”

“I can. Should I bring anything?”

“No — don’t worry about it,” Quinn smiled and patted Rachel’s shoulder. “I’ll deal with the rest.”

+

The rest of the week was a blur of studying, tests, prom queen campaigning and hanging out with Quinn. On Friday morning, when Rachel met Quinn at the blonde’s locker, Jacob Ben Israel sprang out of a door and, with a camera aimed at Quinn and Rachel, and a microphone shoved at their faces, he assailed them with questions that bordered on impropriety.

“What made you two decide to date? Who made the first move? Is Rachel Berry good in bed?”

Rachel gawked at the impropriety of the questions. She turned back to Quinn, half-expecting her to yell at Jacob, but her face remained serene as she calmly answered the questions, with her arm around Rachel’s shoulders.

“I’ve always liked Rachel — I just didn’t know how to cope with it. So I was mean to her, called her names.” She looked at Rachel with soft eyes, with tender eyes, that Rachel felt, right then and there, like confessing her messy and confusing love for Quinn. But instead, Rachel clamped her lips together, forced herself to smile.

“So when she and Finn broke up, I thought — that was the best time to make my move,” Quinn continued, her delicate fingers brushing the line of Rachel’s jaw, the fluttering pulse of her neck. “So to answer the question, I made the first move. And, is Rachel Berry good in bed?” Quinn flashed a flirtatious smile at the camera and really, at this point, Rachel should just stop hiding her blushes altogether. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

Jacob made an indiscrete panting noise reminiscent of an asthma attack. He squirmed, and Rachel winced. “And what about you, Rachel? Barring the experience she had with Noah Puckerman — which was not even Quinn’s fault that Puck said she was not good since he is a two-pump chump: Is _the_ Quinn Fabray good in bed?”

The world seemed to wait in tenterhooks for what Rachel would say next — arguably, a first. Rachel relished the attention for all of five seconds before she leaned into the microphone.

“Quinn is _so_ good,” Rachel said with a smirk and a coyness to her tone. “She can make the bed in ten seconds flat – I even timed her.”

Quinn burst into giggles and with their hands laced together, they left a stunned Jacob Ben Israel behind.

+

Rachel walked up the pathway to Quinn’s front door for dinner, and the opportunity to meet Judy Fabray. She saw her briefly when Quinn gave birth, and during this year’s Sectionals and Regionals, but never said a word to her other than to say a quick hello. Rachel rang the doorbell, her palms sweaty. She smoothed her skirt, mustered her charming smile.

“Come in,” Quinn said after she pulled the door open. “I like your sweater,” she teased. It was Rachel’s lucky argyle sweater, one that Quinn mocked incessantly during freshman and sophomore year.

“Yeah, right,” Rachel quipped.

Judy emerged from the kitchen, clad in a white apron. She wore pearls, like how Rachel imagined she would. Quinn shared the same elegance in the way they walked. Their eyes shared the same hazel colour. “Rachel! It’s so nice to finally meet you. I always adore your performances.”

They shook hands and Judy ushered Rachel into the dining room, the table set for three. There was a bouquet of fresh flowers in the centre, and the plates and cutlery were, Rachel assumed, arrange in a formal dining setting. It was nerve-wracking to have more than two forks by the plates, to be in the presence of such formality.

“Are you okay?” Quinn whispered.

“Just a little nervous, but I’m fine.” Rachel murmured. 

Judy bade her to sit while Quinn served up a salad. “So, Quinnie told me that your club is hard at work for – what is it, dear?”

“Nationals, mom. We’re going to New York for it, remember?”

“Ah, yes,” Judy smiled. “I lived in the Lower East Side for a short time, back when I was working at a publishing house.”

“Quinn,” Rachel squeaked. “You never told me your mom lived in New York!”

Rachel and Judy chatted about the city while Quinn listened and picked at her salad. 

Judy rose and excused herself to retrieve the main course, which was a pesto pasta with roasted cauliflower on the side. “Quinn told me you’re vegan, and I’m only starting to get back into cooking more than just what my ex-husband liked which was a lot of steak and potatoes,” Judy rolled her eyes. “So I appreciated the challenge.”

“Thank you for accommodating me,” Rachel told Judy, though her eyes were locked with Quinn’s. The blonde smiled and gave a half-shrug that endeared her more in Rachel’s eyes.

The dinner progressed with easy conversation in abundance. It wasn’t until Judy brought up prom that Rachel’s hands began to sweat in earnest, once again. 

“Quinn hasn’t told me about her plans yet,” Judy lamented. “I was prom queen back when I was in high school, and you can’t imagine how proud I am when Quinn expressed her desire to be prom queen as well. What about you, Rachel? Do you have a date already? What about your colour scheme? I heard the prom’s theme was fairy tales…”

Underneath the table cloth, Quinn grasped for Rachel’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Mom, about that... Rachel and I are going to prom together.”

Judy remained unphased. “Of course, darling. What about corsages?”

“Mom,” Quinn’s voice was sharp and authoritative. “I meant – Rachel is my date to prom.”

The older Fabray went through such a stoic realization that it scared Rachel when she excused herself and disappeared into the kitchen. Quinn’s shoulders, once tense, sagged. “I don’t know why I feel so queasy. I think – ” Quinn’s voice trembled. “It’s because she looked at me in the same way that she looked at me the night my dad kicked me out.” 

Rachel stroked the nape of Quinn’s neck and scratched the base of her scalp. She leaned into Rachel’s touch and sighed. “It’s going to be fine, Quinn. She needs time to process.”

But, as it turned out, Judy didn’t need that much time at all. She reappeared, composed as ever. At the sight of her, Quinn and Rachel jumped apart.

“I’m sorry if my reaction scared you, Quinnie,” she said, returning to her seat, a little bit breathless, a little bit shaken, but Rachel could tell she tried to rein it in, as best as she could. “It took me by surprise – I didn’t – I wasn’t sure how to react at all, so…”

“It’s okay, mom.” Quinn whispered. “I did spring it on you.”

Judy swallowed hard and, Rachel could tell that the older Fabray looked at her differently then. “So, Rachel, what are your intentions with my daughter?” She asked, eyes sparkling.

“Mom!” Quinn shrieked.

Rachel smiled. “Truthfully, I wasn’t planning on campaigning for prom queen at all, until Quinn brought it up,” which was the truth, after all. “But now that I see how this would make Quinn happy, I resolve to give it my all so we could win. So, I suppose, the answer to your question – my intentions with your daughter is to make her happy. For prom, and even beyond that, if that was what she wanted.”

Quinn met Rachel’s eyes, and their grip on each other’s hands tightened.

“I see I have nothing to worry about, then,” Judy said with a small sigh.

With dinner ending in such a successful note, Rachel noticed the visible relief in Quinn’s face, the loss of tension around her shoulders when she walked her out to her car. The walkway lights allowed Rachel to admire Quinn even as she clipped her seatbelt in the darkness of her vehicle. “Thank you for dinner. It was lovely.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” Quinn leaned her hip against the car door, her elbows resting against the rolled-down window. “I know you only said those things to appease my mom, but it looks like it worked.”

“I didn’t just say it for the sake of your mom,” Rachel said as if it was a simple statement of fact. “I do want you to be happy, Quinn. And if this is one way to do it, I’ll gladly do it for you.”

Quinn looked at her with stormy eyes. She made a low, humming noise. “Why is that?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? It’s what friends do.”

“Right,” why did Quinn sound unconvinced? Panic settled in Rachel’s stomach, and she cleared her throat. Her hands flexed against the steering wheel. “Drive safe, okay? Text me when you get home.”

Rachel nodded. “Bye, Quinn. Good night.”

+

On Saturday afternoon, Rachel stepped out of Mike’s car with Brittany, and saw that Quinn’s red Beetle was already parked by the curb in front of Sam’s house. Rachel hurried inside and saw Quinn behind the DM screen with Sam. Upon seeing Rachel, Quinn’s face broke into a smile, and she held out an arm for a hug. But Sam stopped them.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he shouted. “No current players beyond this point!”

Rachel sniffed, and Quinn laughed. She rose from the chair and hugged Rachel away from the DM screen. “Is Sam telling you about the game?”

“Pretty much,” Quinn said. “He’s telling me the backstory about the Steam Rollers.”

More of the aforementioned group piled into Sam’s dining room. After the usual preparations, the party took their seats. Rachel tried her best to hide her disappointment over the fact that Quinn sat beside Sam, and not beside her.

Yet, she wasn’t jealous. Her chest did not ache and burn when she saw Quinn lean over Sam’s shoulder to look over his notes. All Rachel felt was excitement in seeing Quinn pay attention and ask questions about the game. As Sam began his narration, Rachel and Quinn locked eyes with each other and they both smiled.

Continuing where they left off, the party descended into the cavern they found in the basement. A week ago, they failed to find the vampire in its mansion, so they decided to delve deeper into the cavernous passageway in hopes that it would lead them to the creature.

“A good ten feet ahead of you, you see that the path opens up into a darker, wider area,” Sam said.

“We stop,” Tina said immediately. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

The party double-checked their skills, the charges of their spells, and their HP. With Artie’s orc barbarian leading the charge, and Tina’s dark elf ranger bringing up the rear, they performed stealth checks as they approached the opening in the cave system. In its centre, they found lit candles, a dais, and on top of it, coffin.

“Oh boy, oh boy,” Brittany bounced in her seat, her hand cupping her d20. “Here we go.”

The Steam Rollers approach the dais. Mike’s dwarven cleric, however, failed the second stealth check. His character stepped on a pressure plate that caused the lid of the coffin to spring open.

Sam described the appearance of a creature with pale skin, and long, raven hair. The vampire, with her red eyes, looked at every single one of the Steam Rollers. She opened her mouth to speak.

But it wasn’t Sam’s voice that the Steam Rollers heard.

“You dare trespass and interrupt the peace I have built around myself for millenia?” Quinn drawled. A beat passed, and everyone around the table screamed.

That was how Quinn’s character, a human vampire warlock, joined – and completed – the Steam Rollers.

After the session, everyone thrummed with leftover energy. “I can’t believe you!” Rachel buried her face against Quinn’s torso when Quinn came up beside her while she was still organizing the papers in her binder. “That was what you and Sam were hiding when I found you two at your lockers, wasn’t it?”

“He gave me a character sheet to fill out. He even made me watch this show called _Critical Role_ but I only watched a few episodes so far,” Quinn said with a grin. “Were you impressed by the voice I did?”

“I was,” Rachel looked up at the blonde in unabashed adoration. “Welcome to the party.”

Quinn giggled. “Thanks. This was pretty fun. I’m glad I decided to try it.”

Rachel squeezed Quinn’s waist. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No more fic-posting schedules for me because it only leaves me stressing. So, it'll be a fun sporadic time from now on.


	4. Chapter 4

The best part of not-dating Quinn was that Rachel got to experience the perks of dating in general. Namely, the hand-holding, the companionship. Add to that Quinn’s tenderness towards her, a tutor who only demanded Rachel’s famous sugar cookies as recompense, and a cuddle-buddy for late afternoon naps, Rachel would dare say that she had the privilege to take advantage of all the perks of her not-relationship with Quinn.

The worst part of not-dating Quinn was that. _Not_ -dating.

It was a matter of semantics, she knew, but the mere knowledge that all of this was _not_ real was enough to diminish what could have been pure, unadulterated joy of being with Quinn.

Rachel could act as lovesick as she wanted, as she truly was, and Quinn would only pass it off as Rachel’s dedication to the role of Quinn Fabray’s girlfriend. Which, she _was_ devoted to the role.

That was the problem. Rachel was _too_ devoted. To Quinn. To the role. To winning prom queen.

Much to her detriment.

+

It took no time at all for Rachel to get accustomed to having posters of her and Quinn plastered all over the school. Of course, she had to pretend that she didn’t care at all when sometimes, students would gather in front of one and appear to discuss the qualities of the poster, its merits, and its downfalls. 

One such occurrence, while Rachel made her way to the lunch room, she paused near the water fountain and pretended to refill her water bottle. The bulletin board beside the fountain had a Quinn and Rachel prom couple poster tacked onto it.

“Have you ever seen ‘em kiss?” asked one of the students who was inspecting the poster.

“Come to think of it, I haven’t,” said his friend. “But I thought it was just because Quinn’s shy, you know – she _was_ the head of celibacy club for two years.”

“Yeah, case in point – _was_. _I_ thought it was just because of the gay thing.”

“Weird,” said another. “Even Brittany and Santana were kissing in the hallway and they weren’t even dating.”

“Who said they’re together, anyway?”

“Maybe they’re not. But why would they run for prom queen together if they’re not dating?”

Rachel winced. That was one thing she neglected to consider — further public displays of their affection. She didn’t think it would have to reach that point, but these students made a fair observation — albeit a creepy one. Still, it was good to sound out what the populace thought. It allowed Rachel to evaluate and adjust, and she did just that. She shouldered her way past pockets of students until she arrived at Quinn’s locker.

“Hi, Quinn. You look positively radiant this…” Rachel glanced at the clock that hung on the wall. “Afternoon.”

“Hi, Rachel,” the blonde smiled and finished reapplying her lip gloss. She closed her locker, her lunch bag tucked under her arm. “Shall we? Lunch room or somewhere else?”

“The lunch room is fine, but,” Rachel glanced around and spoke in a hushed tone. “We need to discuss something between us. In private.”

“I can come over tonight if that’s what you want?”

“It is,” Rachel beamed. “Shall we?” She offered her arm, and with a laugh, Quinn curled her arm around Rachel’s. Together they walked to the lunch room, sat with the glee club, and ate their lunch.

+

“So? What’s so pressing that you looked like you were on the verge of having a breakdown during lunch?” Quinn asked from her position on Rachel’s bed. It became a habit for Quinn to come over at least once or twice a week. They would do their homework together, talk, and sometimes Quinn would have dinner with the Berrys. On particularly tiring days, Quinn would demand a nap, and Rachel would not deny her. If anything, she encouraged it by the simple act of allowing Quinn to spoon her while the blonde took a nap for an hour or two.

Rachel didn’t think it was possible to fall in love even more, simply because of how Quinn breathed against her neck while she slept.

“I overheard some people talking about our campaign posters today,” Rachel said.

“Were they in awe of my photoshopping and design skills?”

“No — I mean, I’m sure they were, when they first saw them. But they were scrutinizing _us_ more than the poster itself.”

Quinn yawned and burrowed her face into Rachel’s pillow. She took a deep breath, sighed, and opened one eye to look at Rachel who continued to pace. “And?”

“Quinn, they’re doubting our authenticity as a couple!”

For someone who would be the most affected if they were not believed to be dating, Quinn sure was calm about the entire thing. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

“They were talking about how they see Brittany and Santana kissing but not us!” Rachel had no idea why she felt anxious — a feeling she would have to unpack later. “So the only logical conclusion is to — ”

  
“Rachel,” Quinn said firmly. “We _can’t_ make out all over the school like Brittany and Santana do. Frankly, it’s weird that they do that at all — it’s not even because of the gay thing, but because even with a boy I wouldn’t do that! And that you’re considering to imitate Brittany and Santana, of all people, when it comes to _our_ relationship? I don’t know if you noticed, but they’re kind of a mess.”

“Well, okay, that’s valid,” Rachel huffed. “But when I was with Finn, I’d kiss him on the lips when we’re by my locker or something, right? And if I remember correctly,” Rachel wished she _didn’t_ remember correctly, but alas. “You did the same. With Sam, too. Should we — could we do that?”

Quinn looked at Rachel. Stared at her. “That’s a pretty big step, isn’t it? We’re going from something along the lines of platonic girlfriends to platonic girlfriends who kiss. Are you sure you’d be okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Rachel’s voice quivered in her throat. She muttered to herself, “It’s just a kiss. It’ll be just like a role. Except at all hours, there’s no boundary, and I think I’ll go crazy…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Rachel flashed Quinn her brightest smile, and the blonde did not ask any further questions. “So. Kissing, huh? Ever kissed a girl before?”

“Santana, during a game of spin the bottle. And Brittany, in ninth grade. You?”

Rachel sat on the edge of the bed and scratched at the lint on her duvet cover. “I highly doubt it’ll be drastically different from kissing, let’s say, Finn,”

“Oh, trust me. It’s leaps and bounds different from kissing Finn Hudson.”

“In that case,” why did Rachel’s hands shake so much? “I have not kissed a girl.”

“Then I get to be your first,” the smile on Quinn’s face was easy, comforting. But Rachel didn’t want it to _be_ comforting — especially because it was likely comforting for the wrong reasons. Rachel was not nervous about kissing a girl. She feared for her life and her sanity because she was on the brink of kissing Quinn Fabray – of kissing _the_ girl. “Don’t worry — I won’t bite.”

Such a clichéd thing to say, but with Quinn, Rachel was willing to take all the clichés she was willing to give.

“How is it any different in the first place? They’re just lips on a person of a different gender.”

Quinn smirked and leaned her cheek against her palm, watching Rachel with heady eyes, an intent gaze. “You’re right, there’s no marked physical difference, really. I think it’s just the fact that it’s a girl can be so… liberating.”

“Interesting,” Rachel muttered to herself.

“Do you want to practice?” There was a light in Quinn’s eyes that Rachel could not identify — besides, no matter what attempt she made, it would all feel like a projection. There was no way that Quinn looked at Rachel and her lips with such intensity. No way in hell would Quinn lick her lips in anticipation over the prospect that she would get to kiss Rachel Berry — of all people. “Just pecks on the lips — no big deal, right?”

“Right,” Rachel’s voice sounded distant, like a rattling of a lone hard bean in a tin can. Like yelling into a burial cave of her own making. “Right, no big deal at all.”

Why did Quinn’s breath smell like peaches — when _did_ she even eat them? And were her eyelashes naturally that long?

And since when did kissing someone felt like floating in space?

Kissing Quinn Fabray was incomparable. Not because of any unique quality to her lips or her mouth (a lie — the fact that she was kissing Quinn was the unique quality to the kiss. It made Rachel’s chest ache at the mere thought), but rather, Rachel forgot every boy she had ever kissed. Thus, she could not even begin to compare.

“How was that for a first kiss with a girl?”

Rachel could not look at Quinn’s smile and not immediately reimagine how it felt against her own. The curl of her lip, the pliant softness. Rachel took a deep breath to control herself. 

“How could it be anything but amazing?” Rachel asked Quinn. Their eyes on each other lingered a little too long to be comfortable, too sincere to be safely within the confines of the shoddy boundary Quinn instated in the early part of this relationship. “Girls are awesome.”

Quinn chuckled and looked away. “Yeah, girls _are_ pretty awesome. Do you want to practice some more?”

Rachel was only human.

How could she say no?

+

The first instance of when Quinn kissed Rachel was absolutely expected. They did talk about it last night, after all. The plan was: Quinn would walk Rachel to her class, as always, and they would... peck each other on the lips, easy as you please.

They stood in front of Rachel’s classroom. She tilted her head, and in their eyes, it was as if they nodded at one another. A reminder of what they were about to do, in full view of the school’s population.

“Have fun in class, okay?” Quinn’s hand curled around the nape of Rachel’s neck. Their lips met in a kiss that ended as soon as it began, much to Rachel’s disappointment.

But it did the trick. It hooked everyone in, like ants willing to drown in a honey puddle.

The second time it happened it was purely unplanned, and, Rachel wondered, if it was the kissing and Rachel’s constant proximity that somehow softened Quinn’s guard.

It happened during lunch. Rachel bought Quinn a drink from the vending machine. The blonde was mid-sentence in her conversation with Tina when Rachel placed the cold bottle of apple juice in front of her. Quinn looked up at her and smiled. “Thank you, baby.”

She tilted her chin upwards as if expecting something, and Rachel was unable to resist. She bent over, planted a kiss on Quinn’s mouth. In the middle of the lunch room, where everyone could see and witness Rachel’s further ascent into love.

Rachel sat beside Quinn on the same bench, her cheeks burning with her boldness. She hardly even heard the murmuring around them, their names in everyone’s mouths. For in Rachel’s ears, all she could hear was the rush of her blood, coursing to her face.

But when Quinn rested her chin against Rachel’s shoulder, she knew everything was fine. 

Sort of.

The third time it happened, no one was around to witness it.

They were still in school, but glee just ended and everyone dispersed to their cars, to call their parents to be picked up. Rachel mentioned that she forgot something from her locker. Quinn, being her girlfriend — _quasi_ , Rachel took to reminding herself at all hours, at every instance that she thought of Quinn as her _girlfriend_ lest she further succumb into the difficulty of parsing out reality and fiction — accompanied her without question.

It was second nature now, to have Quinn’s hand in hers. Rachel unclasped the lock and retrieved the textbook she was looking for.

In the middle of that hallway, Quinn tugged Rachel’s hand.

“What’s up?” Rachel looked up at Quinn, saw her half-lidded eyes, the perfect shape of her nose. 

Quinn kissed her, though there was no one around to see, no audience to perform for.

And, despite Rachel’s bravado, despite her insistence that boundaries are meant to be kept and maintained, leaned into Quinn’s kiss, like eyelids falling shut, as easy as falling asleep.

+

“You know, I don’t think everyone fully believes that we’re a couple yet. Especially Santana. I caught her staring at us the other day, leering.” Quinn said one afternoon while she reclined on Rachel’s bed, a history textbook opened before her, along with worksheets that they worked on answering together. Rachel spun on her desk chair to face Quinn.

All that effort, all that emotional turmoil, and it was not wholly effective?

“Isn’t that just how Santana looks at people in general?”

“Right,” Quinn snickered. “But I think that idea you had — to be more like Brittany and Santana in terms of… physical closeness, I guess? It makes sense now.” She closed her textbook and sat up, her legs off the edge of Rachel’s bed. 

Maybe they have been hanging out with each other too much, Rachel wondered, if Quinn was meandering and not getting straight to the point.

“I’m saying,” Quinn heaved a breath and met Rachel’s eyes. “That we should step up our kissing game a bit. Besides, this might be the clutch move that wins us prom couple.”

“You’re not saying — you want to make out like Brittany and Santana all over the school? And prom is this _Friday!_ ”

“No! I still think it’s uncouth. But, say, Santana catches us in one of her make-out spots with Brittany, in a compromising position...”

The way Quinn said that was seductive. As if she needed to employ her feminine wiles, her prime rhetoric, to convince Rachel. “Sounds good,” Rachel managed to say without her words getting stuck in her throat. 

“Really?”

“Why do you look so surprised?” Rachel teased. She rose to her feet and sat on the edge of the bed, beside Quinn. “We’ve gone this far, we might as well go the distance, so to speak.”

“So, do you want to make out? _Practice_ , I mean.” Quinn said.

Rachel shrugged. “Sure.”

Did she sound blasé enough? Or did this contrived nonchalance of hers gave her away?

They napped countless times before, with Rachel’s back pressed against Quinn’s front. They have never faced each other before, with such nearness, in a horizontal position, which, given the intimacy of being alone, compounded with the radiant heat of Quinn’s body, Rachel could feel the last of the boundary she imagined drawing — albeit in sand — be washed away by the waves of this love, this hopeless pining, this futile affection, until it was no more.

Rachel rested her head on Quinn’s outstretched arm, one hand rested on the slope of Quinn’s hip. The blonde wore a skirt that reached past her knees, a burgundy cardigan over a loose white shirt. The waves of her blonde hair fell over her shoulder and Rachel distantly wished she knew artistic theory so she could describe Quinn, wished she knew how to paint, because inasmuch as she could take a photograph, to paint Quinn would give her an excuse to stare.

“You okay?” Quinn’s breath was warm against Rachel’s brow. Her leg nestled between Rachel’s, her palm on the small of her back.

Rachel had long since committed herself to kissing and not feel a thing about it. But that was meant for co-stars, not the smartest, funniest, prettiest girl she ever met with whom she was half in love.

Right, Rachel internally scoffed. As if Rachel Barbra Berry did anything by halves.

“I’m good,” Rachel reached out to touch Quinn’s jaw, her neck, the exposed jut of her collarbone. “Are you ready?”

“You have no idea,” Quinn breathed, and Rachel spent no time wondering what Quinn could have possibly meant by that. If she did, she would think too much and nothing would happen while she ran around in the maze that was Quinn Fabray. She swept back Quinn’s hair, grasped the side of her neck, and kissed her.

They started off slow — close-mouthed. It was easy to get lost in the motions of kissing but Rachel resolutely fought off the fog that the softness of Quinn’s lips brought. Though, when Quinn parted her mouth, took Rachel’s bottom lip between hers, felt the wet swipe of her tongue, Rachel shuddered once, and what little clarity she had dissipated into the aether.

Quinn tightened her grip around Rachel’s waist, pulled Rachel’s thrumming body, alive and vibrant with nerves, with passion, with unabashed desire, closer to her own. Rachel whimpered, tilted her head to feel the slippery drag of Quinn’s lips. Her toes curled in her stockings. Quinn, who always smelled like summer for some reason, intoxicated Rachel. And, as if collapsing into the eye of a storm, Quinn and Rachel formed a singularity, all on their own, when their tongues touched.

Rachel sucked in a harsh breath through her nose. Her tongue on Quinn’s, the sharp rows of her teeth, the kittenish moans that erupted from her throat. Oh, how her head spun. Oh, how the earth turned beneath the rampage of her longing. Rachel grabbed a fistful of Quinn’s shirt, tugged her closer. Oh, how she wanted more of her.

More and more and more. As much as she could take. As much as Quinn was willing to give, her own heart be damned.

Quinn’s cold fingertips danced up Rachel’s shirt to stroke the base of the smaller girl’s spine. Rachel grasped a handful of Quinn’s cardigan and it exposed a sliver of pale white skin. She dragged her nails against impossibly smooth skin. Goosebumps rose to the surface.

The blonde yanked her mouth away from Rachel’s and kissed her warm neck, her tongue against the fluttering of her pulse. Rachel threw her head back, and the moan that quivered out of her throat was indicative of the heat that flared inside the dark-haired girl.

“Fuck,” Rachel breathed, and Quinn opened her eyes, dark and bright, all at once.

She blinked once, twice, and Rachel, with the dregs of her lucidity, saw turmoil there, in those hazel eyes that sent her pulse to quicken every time their gazes met. How Quinn looked into her eyes, then her mouth. Quinn leaned in, as if wanting to continue their charade, but, Rachel wondered if she was projecting, yet again. Something changed. She felt it in the way Quinn obstinately refused to look Rachel in the eyes once more.

“I need to — I…” Quinn removed her arm from under Rachel’s neck, removed her hand from up her shirt. She scrambled off the bed to straighten her cardigan, smooth out her skirt. “I have to go,” Quinn declared, a hairline crack in her voice.

“Quinn, wait — ”

“Don’t,” she muttered. Quinn stood, paced the length of Rachel’s room while the girl watched. “I think… I have to go.”

“No you don’t. You don’t have to go. We can talk about this — ”

“I can’t. I really can’t talk about this. Not right now,” Quinn shoved her books, her papers into her bag with no regard for neatness nor organization. “Please, Rachel. Just… don’t say anything.” She shouldered her bag.

As a consolation, she then looked Rachel in the eye.

The last remnants, the embers of desire, the confusion, so palpable there.

Quinn expelled a breath. Left a stunned Rachel on her bed. Alone, with the taste of Quinn’s peach lipgloss on her lips, the warmth of her skin in her hands.

But no Quinn in her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been reading Dracula lately and I just wanted to say, I Don't Like it. Which is unfortunate because I was considering a fanfic where Quinn finds her great aunt Lucy's journal in the attic and finds out that she's related to Lucy Westenra, but the way I envision it, the source text of Dracula that will be of help to me will be the NBC Dracula one, rather than the novel. Anyway, why am I still talking?


	5. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This bit was originally attached on the last leg of chapter four, but I thought to expand on this a little bit more and make it into its own thing. Anyway, sorry to be confusing but I really like doing Chapter X.5s and that's why things seem wonky if you go by the AO3 chapter numbers.

Quinn Fabray was not gay.

Maybe, as she gunned the engine of her car to pull out of Rachel Berry’s driveway, despite the protestations, despite the ache of the useless muscle thundering in her ribcage that begged her to stay, it could happen to anyone. To feel such a way with a kiss — that does not make nor break one’s sexuality, right?

It could just be, and it baffled Quinn to admit this even though it was just in the silence of her car, that Rachel was an _amazing_ kisser.

Quinn gripped the pleather of the steering wheel and felt its ridges against her palm, until her knuckles turned blue and white. Rachel’s lips, she pondered, could appease gods. End conflict. Bring world peace. One kiss, and maybe the world would settle into a sedentary state, brought by the mind-numbing haze of Rachel Berry’s mouth.

She let out a shaky breath and squeezed her thighs together.

Why did she have to test Rachel’s limitations like that? Asking Rachel to fake-date her was enough of a trespass, but to keep pushing the girl to further their physicality, the intimacy that was difficult to keep corralled into a clear distinction of what was real and what was fabricated, was incredibly manipulative, Quinn knew.

The light turned green, and the vehicle behind her honked in four short bursts and one long, jarring note. Quinn stomped on the accelerator and drove, forced her mind to be blank and not to wander.

She did not want to go home yet. She did not want to sit alone in her bedroom. If she was going to think about Rachel and all the turmoil and confusion that came with her, she was going to do it outdoors.

A warm, late May breeze greeted her once she stepped out of her car. She parked by the curb, in front of the park she frequented when she was twelve, with Santana and Brittany. The same old slides, the swing set, the monkey bars and the jungle gym amidst the lake of gravel that crunched as she approached the swings. The primary colours of the bars had long flaked off, leaving exposed bars of steel. She paused, surprised.

“Santana? What are you doing here?”

The girl looked up from her phone. She sat on the swing, but was not doing any swinging. “Hey, Q. I’m just chilling,” there was a cavernous hollowness to Santana’s voice that made Quinn furrow her brow in concern. “What’s up with you?”

Quinn sat on the swing beside Santana and rocked back and forth like a clock’s pendulum. “Just came from Rachel’s,” she said. “And I didn’t want to go home yet, so I wound up here.”

“Ah, I feel you,” Santana kicked off the gravel to match the back and forth of Quinn’s swinging. “Except I’m waiting to go to Britt’s. Sam’s at her house right now, for some reason.” She swung her legs to gather height. “You know, Britt wants to run for prom couple, thanks to you two.”

She did not sound mad, but rather, resigned. “I told her we can’t, because I don’t know how my parents would react to me being with a girl. I know Britt understood, and she’s chill about it, but I hate that I can’t even hold her hand and walk down the hallway like you and Berry do.”

“You link pinkies — ”

“Yeah, but what is that compared to the whole hand?” Santana dragged her heel against the ground, and it skidded and kicked up gravel, and a dust cloud billowed at their feet. “I think you’re brave, Q. I never said this before, and I know this mushy stuff, it’s not how we operate. I thought you weren’t ready, but now I can see that you’re more ready than I am.” 

Santana looked at Quinn and the blonde wanted to run, wanted to scream the truth. That no, she was not ready — not ready at all, and now, the realization that the reason for her unbridled, unmatched joy resided in a girl a few inches shorter than her, but held more talent in a fingernail than the rest of the school combined, choked up any words that she wanted to utter.

“Now that you’re with Berry, I see you’re happier than you’ve ever been. You’re not a crusty old lady anymore,” Santana snickered. “I think she’s good for you.”

Quinn released a breath so shaky, so tremulous, that Santana frowned. “What’s wrong? Did you fuck something up?”

And so, she told Santana everything. The ploy for prom queen, the kissing practice, and finally, making out. And most of all, how Rachel toppled everything she once thought about herself to be the infallible truth. Namely, her heterosexuality.

To Santana’s credit, she waited for Quinn to finish talking. While Quinn sulked, stared at her palms lined with sweat, the texture of her skirt, and with eyes brimming with tears, she heard Santana snort once, before bursting into raucous laughter.

“Holy _shit_ , Quinn. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Many, many things,” she muttered. “Don’t get me started.”

“Bitch, I already thought you two are a couple, especially after she sang you a Carly Rae Jepsen song. Any gayer and she’d sing Mitski or Hayley Kiyoko to you — why did you feel the need to be caught making out with Rachel?”

“I... I wanted to see how far she was willing to go for me.” Quinn grasped the chains that suspended the swing, and kicked off to rock back and forth, higher and higher. Santana grinned and matched Quinn until they were swinging as high as they could. 

“So you tested Rachel’s devotion to your cause, and look where you ended up, huh? But hey, I get it. If I were as maladjusted like you, with the type of fucked up dad you had? I’d be playing weird mind games with Brittany too. Well,” Santana huffed. “Weirder mind games, anyway.”

They let the swings taper off to stillness. “That’s a really fucked up thing to do, Quinn.”

“I know,” Quinn gritted out. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how Rachel feels about me. What if she only went with the things I said because she saw me as a friend?”

Santana looked at Quinn in apparent disbelief. “Are you serious? Quinn, Rachel hardly ever looked at _Finn_ with her googly, lovestruck eyes as much as she does with you.”

“Maybe she’s a really good actress.”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Santana retorted. “She may be good, but that shit is hard to keep up at all times. Take it from me who has to sit through every instance you two are within ten feet of one another — that girl is apeshit, buckwild, crazier for you than she ever was with Finn.”

A moment of silence lapsed between them, while Quinn mulled over the things Santana said.

“I don’t know if I’m gay, but... Maybe I _like_ Rachel.”

“Duh,” Santana retorted, but she sighed. “Look. In the long run, the label doesn’t matter as much. What matters is how Rachel makes you feel. Which is…?” she gestured with her hand to prompt Quinn to reply.

“Happy, excited to wake up every morning. Delirious and ecstatic.”

“Gross,” Santana said, but with a small, good-natured smile.

“Thanks, Santana.”

“And that’ll be five hundred dollars. Therapy isn't free.”

Quinn rolled her eyes and slapped Santana’s still held-out palm.

“What are you going to do now?” Santana asked. She got up from the swing and stretched her arms above her head. “You gonna talk to Rachel?”

“I think I need some space. I need to figure out what to say when I apologize so she would forgive me,” Quinn admitted. She reached into her pocket to check her phone and saw a few texts from Rachel.

Hi Quinn, I hope you’re safe

I just wanted to check on you

And I wanted to tell you that what happened  
today doesn’t have change anything between us

We’ll still be a prom couple together  
if that’s what you want

I’m safe, don’t worry

Would you still want to run for  
prom couple? Is that what you want?

It took Rachel a long time to answer that Quinn started to grow worried.

At this point, I think it’s  
ridiculous for me to back out now

I’m a big girl — I can handle it

Hopefully

Fingers crossed

Quinn sighed and pocketed her phone. She knew she said she needed space, to mull and think over her feelings so that when the time came to talk to Rachel, she would be coherent. But how could she, when all she wanted was to drive back to Rachel’s house, get on her knees to apologize, and ask for the privilege to kiss her every single day?

“Would you like a ride to Brittany’s house?” Quinn offered.

Santana yawned and nodded. “I do. Thanks, Q.”

“You know,” Quinn managed to say as she pulled her car away from the curb. “I think Sam’s at Brittany’s house because they have a group project together.”

Santana grunted and eyed Quinn. She chuckled. “Yeah, probably.”

It had been a long time since Quinn drove the streets that led to Brittany’s house. She pulled up by the curb and Santana got out of the car. “You won’t tell anyone, right? About me and Rachel faking being together for prom queen?”

“Nah,” Santana said with a sneer. “I think seeing you be miserable because you actually grew to have romantic feelings for Rachel is more _hilarious_ than seeing you lose prom queen. Talk about karma, bitch.”

Quinn watched Santana walk up to Brittany’s front porch before she drove home, to worry about her feelings for Rachel some more.

+

Here were the facts.

When Quinn asked Rachel if she would help her win prom queen by running with her, by posing as her date, that was all she had in mind—to win the prom queen crown, she was willing to go through any length to achieve it. And, at that moment of deliberation, she arrived at the following conclusion:

One, that posing as a lesbian would a risky move, albeit an impactful one. And given Quinn’s history, it would definitely catch the attention of the student population.

Two, that it would be the curveball among curveballs if Quinn and Rachel ran for prom couple together, acting as if they forgave each other for all the slights and fights during sophomore year, to becoming friends, and eventually, into being something more. But in pretend.

Quinn failed to recognize yet another curveball—which was, her feelings would actually become _real_.

In her bedroom, Quinn stared at the ceiling blankly. She was unaccustomed to unrequited love. If this even was love. If this even was unrequited.

She screamed into a pillow to release the frustration that coiled in her stomach. She never had a crush before. Never. People had crushes on her, Quinn Fabray, not the other way around!

And, she supposed, it was karmic beyond belief that of all the people she had a crush on, it was on a girl. And on top of that, it was a cold, hard crush on one Rachel Barbra Berry.

With a sigh, Quinn curled into a ball on her bed. She snuggled under the blanket and huffed. She should be studying for tests, given how close finals were, but how would she focus on anything else? She would close her eyes, and all she would remember was the feeling of Rachel’s lips on hers. And that broken way she looked at Quinn when she made her escape, when the kiss proved to be _too much_ and Quinn could only handle so little...

And it wasn’t like it was the first time she thought that maybe, just maybe, she was starting to fall for Rachel. In fact, it entered her head, many times—she just refused to entertain it for longer than two seconds. She thought about it once, imagined this world where hey, maybe to be in love and be in a relationship with a girl that was specifically Rachel Berry wouldn’t be so bad, given how the way she looked at her made Quinn feel like she could do anything. Quinn noticed it, how Rachel looked at her when she did not think the blonde noticed—but she did. She did, and her chest _ached_ at the mere thought of anything about this being not real. Just acting.

Above all else, Quinn wanted to be in Rachel’s company. She wanted to see her succeed, see her name in bright lights.

Quinn wanted to call Rachel right at that moment, but she remained still. What would she even say? _Hey, I’m sorry but I think I have a not-at-all-fake crush on you. And hey, maybe you’re just a really damn good actress and none of this is real for you but all of this feels real to me and —_

She dug the heels of her hands against her eyes and sighed.

In summation, here were the facts:

Quinn just might be a little bit in love with Rachel Berry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter will drop on Valentine's Day! As a treat. Even if you have a partner, partners, single, or don't want to be with anyone, we're all just out here loving Faberry together.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! aka one of my favourite days of the year since it's a high femme holy holiday.

All the events that happened on Tuesday night — the making out, the panic in Quinn's eyes, the pacing and the worrying over whether Quinn was safe but most of all, is she still okay to be with Rachel? — sped up the passage of time.

For all of Wednesday, they hardly spoke, and all Rachel could do, since she committed herself to giving Quinn some space, was look at the blonde with her loving, longing eyes. Though the few times their eyes met, Rachel could tell that the blonde hardly slept, judging from the exhausted look in her eyes. Guilt lingered in Rachel's chest at the thought of it being her fault. She wanted to approach Quinn and _talk_ to her, reassure her that nothing had to change, but every time she came within five feet of her, Quinn would tense and head to the opposite direction.

_That_ hurt Rachel more than she thought it would.

On Thursday night, after glee, with an aching body from long dance rehearsal hours for Nationals, Rachel walked to her locker alone — Quinn was busy talking to Santana about something. She felt no need to wait, given that Quinn was not talking to her anyway. Sure, she said hi, she said good morning, but always from a distance. Besides, they were all empty words and Rachel had no energy for such conversations.

"Rachel! Hey!" Finn ran up to Rachel even as she power-walked as fast as her legs could carry her. "That was a good practice, huh? We sound good together, don't we?"

They were, as usual, singing the duet for Nationals.

"I will not deny that our voices work well together," Rachel said impatiently.

"Right, so, won't that mean that our killer chemistry can be in real life too? We sound awesome on stage, so we can be awesome together out of it too — "

"Finn," she stopped in her tracks to whirl around and face him. Since Quinn left her in the dust and rubble of her broken heart, Rachel had been irritable to say the least. She took a deep breath – it was unfair for her to direct her irritation and despair to an innocent bystander, even though he could not take a hint. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but I'm with Quinn and I need you to respect that."

"But — "

"I know what you're trying to say," Rachel said in a softer voice. "When we sing an emotional song to each other as a duet, I can feel it, as if I love you – " Finn opened his mouth to speak but Rachel held up a hand to stop him. "And I know I fell for it last year. But not anymore, okay? What I feel for you on stage is just that – on stage. So please…" Rachel ducked her head and left Finn in the middle of the hallway.

How could she be so hypocritical so as to say those things to Finn when she, herself, fell victim to such delusions with Quinn? Perhaps if Quinn was not in the picture, Rachel would have readily agreed to be with Finn again, but with the clarity and distance her love for another provided, she knew that she would be chasing after the so-called chemistry she felt with Finn forever. Which was to say, because it was nowhere to be found off-stage.

But with Quinn – how was it so different with Quinn?

Rachel knew why. With Finn, the feelings were grandiose, always in the presence of an audience. With Quinn, Rachel felt the outpour of love in the little things, in its nuance. Quinn was soft with her even when no one was watching, even when there was no audience to perform for.

To make sense of her feelings for Quinn, she needed to inspect it side by side to her feelings for Finn. It felt unfair to compare her feelings between the two of them – but what can Rachel do? The two of them were, after all, the largest sources of her romantic feelings—before and right now.

"Hey, you didn't wait for me," Quinn walked up to Rachel in the middle of putting some of her books away. "I know things have been weird between us —"

"Understatement of the century," Rachel muttered. "But do go on."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Rachel huffed. "It's simply an agreement over your statement. Things _have_ been weird, and I know precisely why. Because I know you want space, which prevents any opportunity to discuss anything that pertains to your feelings — specifically your feelings for _me_." All the worry, the tension that had been building up in her tiny body rose to the surface. "Which is fine, I get it. But as much as I have a basic understanding over the human psyche, that does not mean I can read your feelings like an open book. You know why? Because it will all seem like a projection." Rachel slammed her locker door closed and walked to the direction of the parking lot. Quinn trailed behind her.

"Rachel," Quinn huffed, grasping Rachel's wrist to spin the girl around to face her. "I'm driving you home tonight, correct?" The girl frowned but nodded. "Okay. We'll talk then."

She kissed Rachel's forehead, and the fuming calmed down to one deep sigh. Together they walked to Quinn's car.

+

Rachel and Quinn had to sit through a grueling dinner with Rachel's dads when they arrived at the Berry house. It wasn't that they were mad and not talking to each other — it was just difficult to pretend like everything was okay, that they would be unchanged as soon as prom was over. Rachel knew that was not to be the case.

She could only hope that Quinn had marginal self-awareness to know that.

Quinn helped Leroy with the dishes while Rachel and Hiram enjoyed a post-dinner cookie.

"Is everything okay between you and Quinn? You two seem…"

"Tense?" Rachel sighed. "That's because we are."

"Would you like to talk about it, sweetheart?"

"Not yet," Rachel grumbled and burrowed into her dad's sweater. "I have to talk to Quinn about it first."

"I'm ready when you are," the blonde's soft voice made Rachel look up. There Quinn stood, dish towel in her hand, her cardigan sleeves rolled up to her elbows. With another deep sigh, Rachel rose and went to her bedroom, closely followed by Quinn.

Since that fateful make-out session on Tuesday, it became difficult to sleep on her bed, when all she could think about was how Quinn felt, her body pressed against hers, her hair in Rachel's mouth. How could anyone who ever made out with Quinn hope to be a productive member of society anyway? How could Finn, Puck, or Sam not want to space out, think about Quinn's hands, the weight of leg thrown over a hip? Rachel was baffled by it all.

Then again, maybe she wasn't baffled at all.

"So…" Quinn began. She sat on the edge of Rachel's bed while the dark-haired girl remained standing.

"Would you care to tell me why you left on Tuesday night like I offended you so deeply?" Rachel blurted out. The ache in her chest resurfaced and it felt too much like how she imagined how an open wound would feel. Pure sting as the open air licked at the hurt. "Was I that bad of a kisser? Did I — were you repulsed by me — ?"

"No, Rachel! It's definitely none of those things. I got scared," Quinn reached for Rachel's hand to hold it. Their cold fingers laced together as if nothing was as important as the fit of the way their fingers interlocked. "It felt good, kissing you. Too good, if you ask me."

Rachel blushed, pleased. "I should say the same about you, Quinn."

Quinn grinned, her thumb swept against the ridges of Rachel's knuckles.

"Quinn, I," Rachel's voice hitched in her throat and she swallowed. "After prom, we will probably return to being just friends. Or acquaintances, rather. And I want you to know that while this experience was gruelling and a true test to my feelings, it was fun getting to know you better and — "

"I was actually thinking we might extend this a little bit more."

"W-what?"

"Think about it — won't it seem strange that we broke up right after prom?"

Rachel sighed. "Y-you're right, of course…"

"I'm thinking — and you can jump in at any point with ideas of your own — we can keep this going until, let's say, until we're thirty? You know, even maybe until our nineties, god willing."

Rachel blinked a few times, her mind processing Quinn's words, the look of amusement in her features, her playful smile. "What are you saying?"

"I want to tell you I'm sorry," Quinn's husky voice hitched in her throat, and Rachel bit her lip, resisted the urge that raged inside her to soothe the girl and tell her she need not apologize. She kept her hand locked with Quinn's. "For running away and making you worry. And for pushing the limits of what we have in the first place. But when I asked for your help to become prom queen, I didn't think I would fall _so hard_ for you."

Rachel's eyes widened and she bit her lip to keep herself from saying anything, though in her chest, her heart raced to deafening proportions.

Quinn continued. "When I had the idea of making out, I wanted to know how far you'd go for me, to test if what I'm feeling is real or some weird anomaly. I used Santana as an excuse. Turns out, she believes us already. And her mind didn't change even after I told her the truth."

"You _told_ Santana?!" Rachel shrieked. "Quinn, that's a stupid move — "

"Hold on," Quinn held up a hand. "Santana said she won't tell. She loved seeing me be in misery and confusion over my feelings for you more than see me lose at prom queen."

"Well if you would just talk to me, you wouldn't be in misery and confusion."

"I know," Quinn guided Rachel's hand to her shoulder and with this closer proximity, wrapped her arms around Rachel's waist. "As I was saying. In the beginning, everything was fine — I believed I could fake it. When we first started kissing, I thought I could pass it off as something friendly and platonic. But when we made out that day, I…" Quinn released a breath, as if she was remembering the physical sensation of it. Rachel bit back a smile at the look of yearning so clear in Quinn's face. "I figured that with you, I don't want to be just friends."

Rachel let out a chuckle and sat sideways on Quinn's lap, her arms curled around her neck. The blonde held Rachel around her waist.

"And it's not just because you're an amazing kisser, either," Quinn continued. "Though maybe that's a part of it. When I panicked, obviously I considered the idea of cutting ties with you. And — " she sniffed, and Rachel caressed her nape, her lips pressed against her temple. "As you can see, the mere thought of it is enough to bring me to tears."

"It's okay," Rachel murmured against Quinn's cheek. "It chokes me up too."

"I can live without you just fine," Quinn grasped Rachel tighter. "I just don't want to."

"I forgive you," Rachel smiled against Quinn's cheek. The blonde turned her head just so to catch Rachel's lips with hers.

"You're not even going to yell at me? Or get mad? You're too selfless, Rachel."

"I think it's more of a lack of boundary than selflessness, actually," Rachel chuckled. "But I'm working on that. When I agreed to help you be prom queen, it was because I wanted to be closer to you, to cement my position in your life as a friend. Little did I know that I would ascend to love so quickly, and with such intensity that by the end of it, if you told me you wanted to run away to Las Vegas, elope, and live in the Canadian Rockies, I would have said yes and packed my bag right then and there."

"You're so adorable when you're intense. Which I suppose is all the time."

Rachel ducked her head and buried her face into Quinn's neck, her cheeks burning with a fierce blush. "As I was saying," she insisted. "I would, quite literally, do anything for you, Quinn. As your friend and fake girlfriend — "

"But I want you to be my real girlfriend."

Rachel swallowed hard and played with the tag on Quinn's shirt. Here was the moment she had been waiting for since the start, if she were to be honest. But somehow, she couldn't believe that it was, in fact, happening. "I did say I would do anything for you…"

"Rachel," Quinn laughed. "It's all of a sudden, I know, but I want you to be my girlfriend because you want to be, not because I asked."

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel cupped Quinn's jaw and kissed her forehead. "You have no idea how long I wanted to hear you say that."

"You could've been the one to ask _me_ , you know."

"Yeah right," Rachel snorted. "Judging from how you panicked over how much you enjoyed making out with me, I don't think you would've handled _that_ so well."

"Okay, you didn't have to put it that way," Quinn said as she tickled Rachel. The smaller girl shrieked and grasped Quinn's wrists to keep her still. Quinn grinned, yanked her hands from Rachel's grip in an attempt to tickle her further.

Rachel, having none of it, grasped Quinn's face and kissed her.

The blonde's hands stilled to rest on Rachel's waist, her head tilted, and so Rachel kissed her deeper. She pulled on the blonde's lower lip with her teeth and pulled back. "That's one way for you to stop tickling me, huh?"

Quinn blinked through her dazed eyes, and Rachel could not resist giggling.

Rachel lay beside Quinn in the middle of her bed, their legs tangled, their breaths comingled. Quinn had her hand halfway up Rachel's shirt while the dark-haired girl stroked the base of Quinn's scalp until she was half-asleep.

"Are you excited for prom tomorrow?" Quinn yawned and tugged Rachel closer to her — which was nigh impossible given the severe lack of space between them. Rachel smiled into Quinn's hair.

"I'm excited to win, if that's what you mean."

Quinn's sleepy grin pulled at Rachel's heart and it filled her with such zeal, such intense affection that to kiss Quinn felt insufficient to sublimate this desire.

But she kissed Quinn anyway.

"I can't wait to see you in your prom dress," Quinn murmured into Rachel's neck. "Why did you have to be weird about not letting me see you in it? It's not like it's a wedding dress."

Rachel clamped her lips together and a choked, high pitch sound escaped her throat at the mere thought of being married to Quinn. The blonde, being close to her throat, heard the sound and she drew back to look at Rachel's face. She saw the expression there and burst into laughter. "Rachel, what is happening to you?"

"Nothing, nothing," Rachel wheezed. "I'm cool, I'm alright."

"Okay, weirdo," Quinn murmured with nothing but affection in her voice.

They discussed their plans for the next day, for the big day, like they did days prior. Rachel knew the plan like the back of her hand, but she allowed Quinn to tell her again. She would drive them back to Rachel's house, they would have dinner. Then, they get dressed — _separately_ , Rachel interjected and Quinn rolled her eyes — and once Judy arrived at the Berry house, they would take photos.

"Oh, the corsages!"

"We can give those to each other before photos," Quinn said.

After which, Hiram would drive them to McKinley.

Then they would win prom couple.

+

A restless energy rippled through the junior student population of McKinley High on Friday. No one was able to focus in class that by mid-morning, the teachers got fed up. By the time it was the class period before lunch, half of the juniors were gone, went home to primp themselves ready for prom.

"Come on, Rachel," Quinn groaned as she trailed the shorter girl down the length of the hallway. "The teachers don't care if we skip class. Prom is tonight, what do they expect? Besides," she hugged Rachel from behind, her chin resting against the crook of Rachel's shoulder. Her mouth, oh so dangerously close to her ear. "Don't you want to leave early so we have time to make out?"

"Quinn," Rachel managed to say in a stern but careful voice. "I do want to make out, but — "

"But what?"

"You're so whiny," Rachel giggled, turning in Quinn's arms to kiss her briefly on the mouth. The blonde chased after her lips, and Rachel allowed herself to be chased. Her back hit the locker and Quinn planted her hands against either side of Rachel's body to keep her from escaping. "But I have a quiz for biology today."

"Wanna bet that class is cancelled because only two people showed up? If I win, we go home and you owe me half an hour of kissing."

"It's highly unlikely that — " Rachel paused when she opened the door to the biology lab. Only the teacher was there, who looked at Rachel and shrugged, saying that the quiz was moved to Tuesday next week.

"Ha! See!"

"You distinctly said there would be two people in the room," Rachel pointed out. "And there were none."

"Oh my god, Rachel — "

"I'm just kidding," the girl grinned. "Well? What are you waiting for? Let's go!"

+

Quinn made a simple pasta dish with crusty garlic bread for a quick lunch, and Rachel watched her from the dining table, her chin propped against her closed fist. She could only smile at the sight of Quinn in a navy blue apron tied around her waist, her hair in a loose ponytail. The steam from the pasta water brought a pink to her cheeks. As she blew on a fusilli and bit it to check its doneness, Rachel felt choked up by emotion that she had to come up behind Quinn and kiss her steam-warmed cheek.

Once the food was finished, they ate in a comfortable silence. Rachel did the dishes. Together they went upstairs to Rachel's bedroom.

"If you think I'm going to make out with you, garlic breath, you have another thing coming."

"We _both_ have garlic breath," Quinn snickered. "But okay, fine."

They brushed their teeth side by side in Rachel's cramped bathroom. It was a simple thing to be doing together but it nearly made tears spring out of Rachel's eyes. Good thing she had to spit, so she rinsed her mouth and also wiped the tears away at the corners of her eyes.

Back in Rachel's bed, Quinn lay halfway on top of the smaller girl, her hand stroking Rachel's belly over her shirt.

"I have half the mind to skip prom just so we can do this all night," Quinn said against Rachel's jaw.

"Don't you dare, Quinn Fabray," Rachel murmured. "We — _I_ did not go through all of that emotional back-and-forth with myself for it all to go down the drain."

"I was teasing," Quinn laughed into Rachel's neck. The timer they set for kissing went off, and Quinn reached for Rachel's nightstand to shut it off. "You want to shower?"

"Y-you mean together or — " Rachel sputtered.

Quinn smirked and shrugged.

They showered — _separately_. Once Quinn was done showering first, she dried her hair and she sat in front of Rachel's vanity, wrapped in a guest bathrobe while Rachel did her hair and makeup. She pinned Quinn's hair in a neat bun, allowed a few curls to escape it to frame her features. Rachel smoothed out the nape of Quinn's neck and succumbed to her yearning to kiss her there.

"Rachel," Quinn husked. Their eyes met in the mirror. "Go shower."

One more kiss, to the spot behind Quinn's ear. "Okay."

When it was Rachel's turn to have her hair and makeup done by Quinn, she could not keep her eyes away from the blonde. The look of concentration there, the way she dabbed lipgloss on Rachel'smouth with such longing in her eyes. Rachel wanted to fall asleep with Quinn's fingers in her hair, to bask in her touch for a long, long time.

"There," Quinn put the final touches and kissed the curve of Rachel's bare shoulder. "No dress yet and you already look beautiful. Maybe you don't need a dress. Just show up in your bathrobe."

"Stop," Rachel flushed and rose to her feet. "Your dress is in the guest room. Get out," she nudged Quinn out of her bedroom, the blonde giggling.

"Wait, I forgot something," Quinn pretended to head back into Rachel's room but all she did was kiss Rachel.

When she drew back, Rachel's eyelids fluttered open for her to see a smug-looking Quinn. Rachel shook her head to clear it and pushed a cackling Quinn out of her room.

As soon as she was alone in her bedroom, Rachel longed to bury her face into her pillow and _scream_ — not out of rage, but rather, because of all these feelings of affection that expanded in her chest beyond, she felt, was her capacity. It was either that, or sing. And maybe it wasn't such a good idea to ruin the makeup Quinn worked hard on applying for her to scream.

She retrieved her dress from her closet, her pulse vibrating from how cute Quinn could be — which she never imagined to be the case. She always imagined her to be icy, or at the very least, not that affectionate with anyone she was dating. Rachel put her dress on, just as she heard the front door open, and a mix of voices. Rachel grabbed her small purse and headed downstairs. The closed door of the guest room probably meant that Quinn was still inside, getting ready.

"Oh, my baby girl! You look stunning!" Leroy exclaimed. He admired her daughter at the top of the steps. "The corsage is in the fridge, darling."

"Thank you, daddy." Rachel kissed him on the cheek. "Hi, Judy! It's nice to see you!"

The older woman beamed. "Lovely to see you too, Rachel. You're a sight to behold."

"You should see your daughter," she responded, and Judy laughed.

Rachel, in a bout of nervous energy, paced the kitchen and took the corsage she ordered for Quinn. It was a white gardenia with a light green ribbon to tie around Quinn's wrist. The furl of the petals were gorgeous, and velvet-like to the touch.

She heard gasps from the main foyer of the house and it could only mean one thing.

Quinn had emerged.

Rachel left the kitchen and found that she became unable to breathe. Quinn, dressed in a powder blue dress, with sheer shoulder straps and sparkling stone-encrusted bodice descended the stairs much like an angel descending from the heavens.

She took careful steps in her heels down each step. Quinn raised her head and met Rachel's adoring gaze. She stepped towards the blonde, at a loss for words.

That was not particularly true — she had so many things to say to Quinn. But they were incoherent, incomplete thoughts, arias for her love and adoration that had no end.

"Quinn, if I was an 18th century painter, I would be begging you on my knees right now so you would let me paint you."

Quinn's lips quivered and she burst into giggles. "If I was an Elizabethan poet I would have written a hundred sonnets about you by now."

Rachel grinned and took a step towards Quinn. She held out the corsage. Quinn took it, caressed the petals and the ribbon. She smiled. "It matches my eyes."

Quinn pulled her hand out from behind her, which Rachel did not even notice she kept behind her back given how enamoured she was by Quinn's radiant face. "Here, your corsage."

It was a white camellia with a golden ribbon. "I don't know if you know flower meanings, but — "

Rachel looked up in alarm. "Do you?"

"Not for every single one or anything," Quinn said, with a furrowed brow. "Why? What do gardenias mean?"

Rachel winced. Sure, she and Quinn were together- _together_ now, but she still felt a modicum of embarrassment over the fact that she was so in her feelings for Quinn that she obsessed over the corsage choice for days. "They mean secret love. But it's not so secret now, so..."

"Oh," Quinn chuckled. "Well, now mine seems boring. White camellias mean 'you're adorable'."

"Sorry to interrupt, my two favourite sapphics," Hiram said with a bright grin. "But it's getting late and we need photos."

Rachel and Quinn stiffened, completely oblivious having forgotten the fact that their parents were right there.

They took numerous photos thanks to Leroy's avid art direction. They took photos by the steps, by the front doors, the foyer, everywhere the man could think of until he was content. Hiram ushered Quinn and Rachel to the car and drove them to school, where the gymnasium was already playing loud music. Cars and limousines cluttered the school's driveway that it took nearly ten minutes just for Hiram to pull close enough to the school's curb.

"Have fun, you two. Call me when you want to get picked up."

"We will — thanks, dad."

Hand in hand, Quinn and Rachel entered the school's gymnasium. It was decked out with fairy lights and a rented disco ball. Fake foliage, plastic vines with polyester flowers adorned the doorways. A line of voters curled around the table for the prom couple ballots. Currently, Mike, Artie, and Sam were hunched over the tables to cast their vote.

Sam chanced to look up and saw Quinn and Rachel walk in. He nudged his friends and the three of them waved.

"It better be our names marked on that ballot, boys," Quinn called out.

"Oh, for sure!" Sam grinned.

"Do you want to do last minute wrangling for votes?" Rachel asked Quinn once they found their table that they shared with the Steam Rollers plus Santana.

"No," Quinn said thoughtfully. And in the light of Quinn's eyes, Rachel only saw adoration. "I think I want to dance with you."

"Stop eye-fucking!" Santana yelled.

"Don't worry about it, Rachel. San and I will get more votes for you!" Brittany grinned. Beside her, the girl in the red dress had a wicked glint in her eye and Rachel's stomach churned from nervousness.

"I don't think that's…" she was about to say, but Santana left, followed by Brittany. Rachel rose on the tips of her toes to search for them above the sea of heads. Quinn giggled and held Rachel's waist so she would not tip over.

"It'll be fine," she soothed. She tugged Rachel's hand to sit down. "Even if she tells people that we faked it at the start, I don't care anymore. As far as I'm concerned, you're the real prize here."

Rachel giggled, her cheeks warm from blushing. "You're adorable."

"I'm just saying," Quinn said shyly. "I might not win prom queen, but at least I got the girl."

Rachel stuck out her bottom lip and Quinn laughed. She leaned in and kissed the dark-haired girl. "I should be the one saying that," murmured Rachel against Quinn's mouth.

"Yes, well. You seem more nervous than I am."

Rachel grasped the back of Quinn's neck for a deep kiss, one that she hoped imparted into Quinn the breadth of her affection. She eased back and admired the half-lidded eyes, the dopey smile on Quinn's face. "What was that for?"

"I'm abusing my privileges as your girlfriend. I believe you mentioned dancing?"

Together they walked towards the dance floor where Artie was doing wheelies, and Sam was body-rolling with Mercedes and Tina. Mike was breakdancing. Quinn and Rachel joined the fray, dancing with their friends until they were out of breath from physical exertion and laughter.

Rachel left Quinn with Tina to get refreshments. In the middle of scooping punch into plastic cups, she felt the familiar towering presence of Finn behind her.

"Hey," he greeted, picking up a plastic cup for himself.

"Hi, Finn. You look dashing." And he did, in his suit and crimson tie. "Do you have a prom date?"

"I was hoping you would be. We could sing a song together for people to dance to!"

"Finn," Rachel sighed and faced the boy. "I'm with _Quinn_."

"Yeah, okay, whatever. But I bet you all the money I have right now — it's not a lot, but still — that she'll break up with you right after prom! I thought you were smart, Rach, but anyone in here can see that she's just using you to win prom queen!"

Rachel watched Finn break into his tirade with a serene smile. Once he lost his steam, she chuckled. "Quinn said she _likes_ me. That she wants to be with _me_. Do you have any idea what that means to me?"

"And you believe her?"

From where she stood, she saw Quinn on the dance floor. Strands of her blonde hair had escaped her bun. She was dancing with Brittany and Santana, her head thrown back in laughter. "Without a doubt."

Quinn somehow sensed that Rachel was looking at her. She slowed down in her dancing and looked as if she was about to head to where Finn and Rachel stood, but Rachel shook her head. So she stopped and smiled. Nodded and resumed her tango with Brittany.

"Even if Quinn breaks up with me, even if she breaks my heart in the future, I will not abandon her for you because right now, she makes me happy. And I believe in that happiness."

Finn was silent. "Okay. I still don't get it, but if you're sure…"

"I am. Have you voted for prom couple yet?"

+

The head of the prom committee announced that they were about to announce the prom couple, and asked the candidates to please approach the stage. Quinn ushered Rachel through the sea of people and stood behind her, hands on her shoulders to rub them in soothing circles. Rachel was tense — of course, she loathed to lose — but Quinn's hands knew the exact way for the tension in her shoulders to dissipate.

"The winner for prom couple by an overwhelming number of votes is…" the head of the committee glanced at the clipboard in their hands. Rachel so longed to yell, 'get on with it!'

"Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry."

Cheers and hollers thundered in the school gymnasium. Quinn shook Rachel by the shoulders to shake her out of her stunned reverie.

"You good?" Quinn asked with a laugh.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"Good. We have to go up there and get our crowns."

Rachel leaned against Quinn as they climbed the stage together, grateful that Quinn was practised in the entire ordeal and seemed more stable than she was. The plastic tiaras were lowered onto their heads. The music started for their first dance. Quinn offered her hand to Rachel, and with a smile and a thundering heart, she took it.

Rachel felt the bubbling of words in her chest. Her tongue, heavy with the words that would change everything and nothing. But instead of saying them out loud, it came out as a soft, "Hi."

In Quinn's eyes, she saw that she understood. In Quinn's hand that tightened around hers, she felt real. In Quinn's voice, she heard love. But all that came out was, "Hi back."

They danced to music that seemed inconsequential to the moment, in that space cleared on the dance floor for just the two of them. Rachel never believed she would win prom royalty until the moment Quinn asked. And throughout the turmoil, the inner conflicts, the precipitous desire for Quinn, Rachel emerged victorious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. I hope it was at least a little bit enjoyable for you, reader, as it was so fucking fun for me to write. See you in the next fic (whenever that is), or come talk to me on tumblr at ficklefic!


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